Moonface: Fast Peter
So Peter loves a girl
The way that only Peter does
He told me all about it on the balcony
When we were high on drugsAnd Peter said the girl
Would never say that she was sorry
And that was partly why he held her
Up to the hearts perfect lightBut she lives so far away
They only talk on their computers
And Peter said he wants to stay
A good guy in the worldSo Peter’s leaving town
Who even does that anymore
He’s gonna go find the one
Who sings for himWon’t you win the race?
Won’t you win the race?
Won’t you win the race for me?
Won’t you win the race?
Won’t you win the race?
Won’t you win the race for me?
Won’t you win the race?
Won’t you win the race?
Won’t you win the race for me?
Won’t you win the race?
Won’t you win the race?
Won’t you win the race for me?She’s the one
The one that he thinks of when he thinks of love
She’s the one
The one that he thinks of when he thinks of love.
(Source: concetta)
I’m reblogging this because this scene still makes me laugh and anti-christmas is coming!
PWTorch poll on The Shield. Find me a curiosity poll on the Shield where Ambrose isn’t the overwhelming winner.
Fact.
Dean Ambrose talking for 27 seconds > rest of the WWE talking until wrestling no longer exists.
Dean Ambrose.
I’ve always felt like is what Colt from 3 Ninjas grew up to look like.
Drunk Dialer.
I very nearly drunk-dialed you last night
while taking a break from willing myself through the second bottle of wine
It was 3 am
All I wanted to ask you was, why am I still awake?
I used to fancy the thought of you fancying me a romantic drunk
Or maybe a thoughtful drunk
I’d settle for a happy drunk, or a stupid happy drunk
Any drunk but just a drunk
But shown through this imitation crystal bought secondhand
I began to feel that you considered me to be a lonely drunk
Which struck me as the worst drunk of all
And made me think about giving up drinking altogether
These have been dry times lately
But I feel lonelier still and always seem to be praying for a flood
Like all these farmers gripping handfuls of worthless soil
Fearful of the harvest that may never come
But the flood always comes back
Maybe a little later than before
but it always comes back
Usually in a different form
As salty as this one tasted against my mouth
I thought it maybe made of tears
Maybe they were yours
but I cannot remember how often I made you cry
so I stopped thinking about it
And held a last gasping breath and closed my eyes just as Dust finished
I expected the flood to pull me under something truly dark
But it didn’t
It carried me into my room
And spit me out onto my bed
I opened my eyes and rolled over and saw the phone
I picked it up, soaking wet, and looked at the time
It was 3 am
And I thought about calling you
But I obviously didn’t.
