Late night. Street light. Fist fight.
You’re no Tyler durden but I’ll be Jack’s quivering knees. On the ground, bleeding. So drunk I don’t even know what I’m seeing. One fish, two fish, now I’m toothless.
But with a gun in your mouth, you can only speak in vowels. And there’s only so many ways to prepositionally phrase my fist into your face.
Clean linen and fresh coat of paint. Fills the air with the thick scent of insomnia.
Old conversations and ancient thoughts vibrates through my nostalgic silence.
I’m not alone with the ghosts of my past to keep me solid, strong, simply Sabrina.
Blonde beauty queen singing country, while the cowboy sits anxiously.
Red Marlboro. Green Newport. Blue parliament. Thunder birds are go. The cigarettes make your heads go whoa.
Tailgate parties on the truck are what friendships are made of. Let’s make these nights never end. Because who has time for bullshit. I love these kids more than oxygen
Mandy Andrews Sabrina. The real yacht trash. We know how to throw a bash.
Betwixt 