So like, I got my fix right, and like, it wasn't the same, I need something more, something stronger, this is fucked up! Thats all I got to say about that!
If I had a dime for everytime someone told me how much I look like a young Elvis, I'd be able to take my private jet from Graceland to Denver, CO, and fill my belly with twenty-two peanut butter, jelly, and bacon sammiches!
This site uses cookies to help personalise content, tailor your experience and to keep you logged in if you register.
By continuing to use this site, you are consenting to our use of cookies.