It's a small town without you
It feels cold, it's creepin'
I'm moving on, I look ahead instead
Spirit divide, drift alone
I waved her goodbye, I carried on
Dreams pass, my black dress
Folded on a big mess
I'm changing my next flight to Paris
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syntifik
- Consistently making a mess of things, she's either "funny" or "weird". Botcho usually finds herself awake for too long despite her love of sleep. She's busy exploring the world with a taste for fashion, concerts, breaking rules, hair dying and pizza. She only calls herself a writer in an attempt for her blog to make sense. For all business inquiries, you can contact her mom. syntifik@hotmail.com
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