Caricatures of your wrecking ball gown. In my mind all the time. I wanna be in that damsel patterned alley. Where you go for a smoke. And sorrow slow dances, the phones are lighting up.
Well oh they might wear classic Reeboks. Or knackered Converse or tracky bottoms tucked in socks. But all of that's what the point is not. The point's that there ain't no romance around there.