Tomorrow comes with rain
I look down on myself from a pink little cloud made of vodka. it sways rounds and rounds in the sky, circling the cities and soon enough dissolving into a rain of reality biting me in the morning after.
Partur af bloggi sem ég skrifaði Þegar ég var drukkinn einu sinni, las það daginn eftir og fannst þetta brot hreint æðislegt. ;) Spá, sem einmitt rættist.