Fill holes, dig hills forever gazing at backdoors.
For once in a life, it's coming in inspired by our attraction.
What we smell, bitter sweet pleasure.
One phone call. One fine line of prison.
The walk. The smell. The spoiled. Backdoor honey please come home.
Such a shame to throw away. Don't you fucking spill it.
Avoid that, the best feeling possible. Yes we do obsess.