Frozen upon impact. It tastes like pennies.
Your memories taste like pennies.
Warm. Sick. Till I want to spit you back up again.
Your memories taste like pennies.
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Words, Words, Words
- [Purity]
- Arrived on June 18th, 1991. I don't plan to leave anytime soon. I'm a friend to some, an enemy to none. My music is where I'd like you to touch.
What I Am Made Of
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