This summer, I smoked and drank way too much, had sloppy hook-ups with girls who seemed like a good idea at the time, played my first open mic, jumped a train, somehow managed to charm a cop out of arresting me, expanded my mind with chocolates and blotter, joined a sketch comedy troupe, supported my friends' solo comedic careers and partied with them when they got paid for said gigs and needed to celebrate, ended up walking in the park late most evenings (seldom sober), met Kenny Loggins, and started going to super secret underground punk shows in an apartment in a sketch neighborhood.
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It's a hand-me-down, the thoughts are broken
Perhaps they're better left unsung
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