May sweet fetal Jesus grant me the strength to not spend all my fucking money at H&M tomorrow.
Song to Woody - Bob Dylan
“Seems sick and it’s hungry, it’s tired and it’s torn,
it looks like it’s dying, and it’s hardly been born.”
Pull My Hair - Bright Eyes
“It will be more like a song
and less like it’s math
if you pull on my hair
and bite me like that.”
