dude,
someday your life will be cut short by some guy in the clouds with a giant pair of scissors. so cross your fingers and 'be prepared'
let loose the tears that hide between mascara-caked eyelashes and banish potato chips to that neverending pit of despair in your belly.
walk away from the splashes of blood spilled over you and sidestep girls clinging to you like a fourth-of-july popsicle stuck to your tongue. erase the dulling scars hiding under ivory skin (and do your goddamn math homework, while you're at it)
don't wanna be just the flavor of the week.
don't wanna be the next backstreet boys- you're in, and then you're out.
you don't have two chances.
go for it, dude.
