(paperbuildings: via hellonewyork)
About
Elvis never could carry a tune/ And she thought about this irony as she stared back at the moon/ She was tracing her years with her fingers on her skin/ Saying well why don't I begin again/ With turpentine and patches/ With cold, cold Campbell's from the canFollowing
(paperbuildings: via hellonewyork)
i want to see that city so badly, I think sometimes that there something, someone waiting for me in Big Apple, that will...