“take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die”
but the lakes is really just the long pond studio. and instead of the poets dying, it’s them killing us.
Sorry but you’re an absolute psychopath if you go out on the piss till early hours on Christmas Eve. It’s a takeaway, pjs and a Christmas film then bed ready for Santa
ABBA singing about divorce: 'I don't wanna talk about things we've gone through'
Lily Allen singing about divorce: 'wait until you hear what he sticks up his bum'
WE COULD CALL IT EVEN!!!!!!!!!!! YOU COULD CALL ME BABE FOR THE WEEKEND!!!!!!! TIS THE DAMN SEASON WRITE. THIS. DOWN. I’M STAYING AT MY PARENTS’ HOUSE AND THE ROAD NOT TAKEN LOOKS REAL GOOD NOW!!!!! TIMES FLIES-