sobota, 1 marca 2014

Local boondocks became friendly when we were driving around in my car, listening to one of the Motley Crue's oldest albums, having drunkenness as our major puropose. Spring air all around and stars in heavens, my girl on my side, laughter and cigarettes, one after another. There was nothing more I would ask for. Why am I so concentrated on this and convinced that this evening I will remember - that's probably the case of the dreams that visited me as I closed my eyes when my lids could not stand the burden of my glamorous-style lashes, both from exhaustion and alcoholic overflow in my veins.