I want to crash your car
I want to scratch your cheeks
I want to make you sick
I want to sell you out
Want to expose your flaws
I want to steal your things
I want to show you off
I want to tell you lies
I want to write you books
I want to turn you on
I want to make you come
200 times a day
You have no idea how irate I am, Riley fucking McIntyre. No idea.
No comments:
Post a Comment