Our thing progresses I call and you come through Blow all my friendships To sit in hell with you But we’re the greatest They’ll hang us in the Louvre Down the back, but who cares? Still the Louvre.
Our thing progresses I call and you come through Blow all my friendships To sit in hell with you But we’re the greatest They’ll hang us in the Louvre Down the back, but who cares? Still the Louvre.
Someday, everything is going to go right for you, and it will be so wonderful you won't even know what to do. — Hannelore Ellicott-Chatham, Questionable Content