Entre Empradiated

Super Cali guinea pig. Wonder what's in the air my own gps coordinates? I can't tell you that kind of thing, but bring over a 6 or a 420 shot, and we'll go mad and make, like fucking machines; I'll leave the door open for you; you, do what you have to do, and we'll pretend we're someone, anyone else, to get past the fact that we feel fucked up inside, and even if you're one of the I guess lucky few, who know exactly why and how they go, still doesn't change a thing; pour moi?
I know, you're personally very well adjusted and quite comfortable
in your skin, your career, the thing we call love; not 1 word.