How many more bars will we storm out of tonight?
Cause I can’t see straight and you’re shouting at everyone. I’m in lipstick and you’re soaked through and sleeveless and I could do with sleeping soon. But you’re yelling "Back to mine, back to mine. We’re gonna drink all night" as I cringe into my hands on the bar. "Back to mine, back to mine. We won’t sleep tonight." Home’s just where you stop when comfort outweighs your sense of adventure. I say something like "When the invites stop we’ll have to leave this town" but I’m always saying shit like that and it’s so self indulgent and so fucking pointless cause we’ve all left homes before. Home’s just where you stop when comfort outweighs your sense of adventure, and I don’t think we’re there yet.
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