Where the fuck am I?
You can't see me.
Fort made of Filsons.
I'm buried under here.
With your girl.
Told her she "might as well have the best" â„¢
While you're out at flea markets trying on dead people's clothes,
I'm in my fort playing make-believe.
Make believing I'm not on that next level Cookie Crisp.
Make believing I'm not breakin' owls' necks when I'm out all night steezing.
Make believing I'm not your favorite blogger.
Never gonna grow up.
Wearing my forest green Macky Cruiser.
No fucking pants on.
Fly as shit.
Call me Patina Peter Pan.
So fucking fly.
In my fort made of Filsons.