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No ruined garden to return to Already desolate site Your smile would rejuvenate, make glow Like the lunar halo tonight

If that craft could rapture me Teleport to that tendriled fence Pretend your hair my hands run through Just to see your silhouette

And proof of life in cold cloud breath 'neath gematric compassed moon What's greater, longing or relief If new ivy takes root

Would you wake up Endymion If blue-hazel eyes keep veiled glory And brush the cobwebs from my face Move hands to pass eight-forty

from 2020. I'm being a hopeless romantic faggot tonight

No ruined garden to return to Already desolate site Your smile would rejuvenate, make glow Like the lunar halo tonight If that craft could rapture me Teleport to that tendriled fence Pretend your hair my hands run through Just to see your silhouette And proof of life in cold cloud breath 'neath gematric compassed moon What's greater, longing or relief If new ivy takes root Would you wake up Endymion If blue-hazel eyes keep veiled glory And brush the cobwebs from my face Move hands to pass eight-forty *from 2020. I'm being a hopeless romantic faggot tonight*

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[–] • 1 pt

I'm just on the road a lot

[–] • 0 pt

Oh come on

We both know it's much more than just a job, it's a way of life

Reality is that you love to shit in that bucket that's all, that's the main reason why you took that job in the first place, deep down you know it's true

There are two kinds of people in this world; those who shit in a bucket, and those who secretly wish they could shit in a bucket

[–] • 1 pt

Actually with the squat, you have to wipe less. Think the rag gave me a rash man