"Does it really fucking matter?"

Fucking hanging out. Day in New York. I came up here to meet with Road Dog. It's my fault that we're not together now, cause I was supposed to go meet him awhile ago. When I see him, I see him and then we're together again. Then we hang out in New York till we don't fucking feel like it anymore. Plans are plans. Does it really fucking matter? We'll go somewhere.



One day you will not find me. I'm leaving the god damn city. I'm doing my own thing.

Peachy