Get Out
You threaten to shoot my friends dead.
You lie about what they have said.
You mock me in my misery.
You throw your knife at Cameron's head.
That ain't my trip.
You call her curses every day.
But overhear! They claim you're gay.
You flip your lid and kill the kid
And in your room you hide away.
That ain't my trip.
You lie and say I have a crush.
That ain't my trip.
That ain't my trip.
No, that ain't my trip.
Copyright © Keri Storm | Year Posted 2018
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