I know a girl made of memories and phrases, lives her whole life in chapters and phases.
Some of it's magic and some of it's tragic but I had a good life all the way.
Maybe roll in the sand with a rock and roll man.
While my mind is flexible, these brittle bones don't bend.
I've always found drugs and alcohol somewhat pedestrian. It's like, I don't need an external agent to open my mind. I'm here, conscious, alert, present. Why would I alter that?
There's a little bit of fruitcake left in everyone of us.