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I got a twenty dollar bill
That says no one’s ever seen you without makeup
You’re always made up
And I’m sick of your tattoos
And the way you always criticize the Smiths
And Morrissey

And I know that you’re a sucker for anything acoustic
But when I say “let’s keep in touch”
I really mean I wish that you’d grow up
This is the first song for your mix tape
And it’s short just like your temper
Somewhat golden like the afternoons
We used to spend before you got too cool

neeeed

(smokeyes)