I hit hard.
You know you never think you’re going to, until the
people stop:
Good Samaritans I’m writing to you.
He’s the only one that would think to tell it that way.
And I appreciate it, even though I never say that I do.
It hit hard.
I’m so sick of never eating the food at lunchtime, when
I’m in my tan and blue.
Yeah, he’s the only one that would think to tell it that
way.
“He’s got some flat tires, so we’re running just a little
late.”
I could take the freeways down if I didn’t want to make
October.
I could stay inside my house, but I never like the
streets swept.
I can’t wait to get out of the house. I can’t thank you
enough.
