Get out of town, I want to eat a Spree. (youdoandidont) wrote,
Get out of town, I want to eat a Spree.
youdoandidont

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The end of a three weeks of summer.

Every single time that I think that things might be all right,
my life seems to tell me to go to hell.


I have thought of a great invention.
Ask me what it is.






I can't stop chewing my mustache off.
But I'm alive anyway.
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