carried away

You son of a bitch Your full of shit. The way you carry yourself Just like me. For me To be mad. I hate that your perfect. That you like homework and success. That you do an assignment instead of smoking the best Weed the garden because you do as I say. You aren’t anything at all, or atleast that’s what I want because I cant fall in Love that new shirt, the one that shows me your arms and your Chest x-ray, because that’s what you’ll need when I’ve ripped out your Heart on fire, more than I can handle.