Hell-raiser, sink your teeth into the coast and bleed in the treehouse. Welcome to the place I call home, I run here with ink skin and blue-eyes. Sometimes, I'm really such a child. I can't make my mind up about where to go or who to love. I can't even decide what clothes to wear; And then I usually decide that I just don't want to wear clothes.
Sitting in front of my vanity and playing sleep-till-noon in my white window bed, I wish I could live in this tree-house forever. But I know if I stayed, I would lose inspiration all too soon. I need the world to inspire and disgust me, if I'm going to be an artist.