The party starts at nine p.m. at which ever house is close and vacant,
We'll call the ten friends we've got left to pretend we've got a life.
The boys are slaying shitty brews, and I've been slaying orange juice.
You know we don't got shit to do, I guess we'll stay the night, fuck.
GAME OVER GUYS.
GAME OVER.
Friday, October 30, 2009
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