Take me to 1972,
When the guys are bad and I'm constantly oppressed.
1972, when men wear lipstick better than I do.
1972, I'll rip his tights and he'll pinch me down on the floor.
What is this millenial bullshit?
Just all nostalgia, no more Iron Curtain and send my love to Vietnam.
Take me to London, 1972.
Actually, anywhere away from this third-world madness, this Philippine pretentiousness that I could die from.
Craving for further complications,
Further injuring myself in desperate search of a thrill.
All you do is watch me talk about 1972,
Yes, I am badly misplaced, don't you feel the same too?
Wednesday, surrounded by highland drunks,
On my brew, thinking of 1972, why did Ziggy die.620Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyhXHPBIfNr
Somebody tell me why I am here,
Even if you want me, I'd still choose 1972.
ns 15.158.61.51da2
