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pinklikehysteria: God tells me to be childlike But I can’t help but age like stretching wood that creaks sighs into bedrooms of widows and divorcees Because my mind is an instrument heaven-crafted for beauty— Still, My heart stretches over cavern
pinklikehysteria: God tells me to be childlike But I can’t help but age like stretching wood that creaks sighs into bedrooms of widows and divorcees Because my mind is an instrument heaven-crafted for beauty— Still, My heart stretches over cavern
pinklikehysteria: God tells me to be childlike But I can’t help but age like stretching wood that creaks sighs into bedrooms of widows and divorcees Because my mind is an instrument heaven-crafted for beauty— Still, My heart stretches over cavern
pinklikehysteria: God tells me to be childlike But I can’t help but age like stretching wood that creaks sighs into bedrooms of widows and divorcees Because my mind is an instrument heaven-crafted for beauty— Still, My heart stretches over cavern
pinklikehysteria: God tells me to be childlike But I can’t help but age like stretching wood that creaks sighs into bedrooms of widows and divorcees Because my mind is an instrument heaven-crafted for beauty— Still, My heart stretches over cavern
pinklikehysteria: God tells me to be childlike But I can’t help but age like stretching wood that creaks sighs into bedrooms of widows and divorcees Because my mind is an instrument heaven-crafted for beauty— Still, My heart stretches over cavern
pinklikehysteria: God tells me to be childlike But I can’t help but age like stretching wood that creaks sighs into bedrooms of widows and divorcees Because my mind is an instrument heaven-crafted for beauty— Still, My heart stretches over cavern
pinklikehysteria: God tells me to be childlike But I can’t help but age like stretching wood that creaks sighs into bedrooms of widows and divorcees Because my mind is an instrument heaven-crafted for beauty— Still, My heart stretches over cavern
pinklikehysteria: God tells me to be childlike But I can’t help but age like stretching wood that creaks sighs into bedrooms of widows and divorcees Because my mind is an instrument heaven-crafted for beauty— Still, My heart stretches over cavern
pinklikehysteria: God tells me to be childlike But I can’t help but age like stretching wood that creaks sighs into bedrooms of widows and divorcees Because my mind is an instrument heaven-crafted for beauty— Still, My heart stretches over cavern