Wamp

Droppin' my zine in a week or two. Contains no surprises so don't bat your eyelids too hastily.

This will probably be in it...yo?

Well worn creases in soft back couches
show me I'm not the first, tell me I'm not alone
Watching girls of my dreams
flirt with the dream of a boy
Who I tried to be.
Too tight tee's feel all too wrong
and the palms will shift over last season's jeans
trying to be all that I can be in teen blue eyes

Chasing misread signals from passed out queens
(what's wrong with that)
Sitting up all night, please, please,
let me be someone's wrong number
let their words have no meaning
carry the conversation, tangled with lies
this phonebook is endless
this chord is powerful
lets so how many we can dial
before my breath rings out