Maclain's POV
I stared at the paper with the lyrics I wrote. It's been a month, I haven't seen Mr.RichAss. No calls, no nothing. But do I care? f**k no. Not one bit. Not at all.
"Maybe a bit." I mumbled to myself.
I hate you
I love you
Don't want to
Uggggghhh and that song already exists!
I balled up the paper and shot it towards the trash can. It landed on the ground sadly. But I wasn't gonna pick it up. I threw my head back looking up at the cieling. Memories and thoughts flooded me. Memories occurring like they all just happened yesterday. And I just started writing.
Bitter sweet was my remedy
No love could ever cure me
All the riches and gold, I won't let it change me
I rather have a stroke
Then let myself get washed away
Every little country bumpkin
Changing who they are
