i could kinda see you at the cigarette party
weaving through the lovers and lighting everybody
pretentious never looked so sweet
swimming through the haze at the cigarette party
i'm not me when you're around
my black lung when we separate the sounds
see, this is everything to me.
love me
- dolly at school
- She was Lo. Plain Lo in the morning. Standing five foot two in one sock. She smoked in her car and sang to herself. She wrote songs in her head when you took her on dates. She was jazz. She was the blues. She was high. She was not an artist, but she was good at a few things. That's why they still call her. And you should keep reading.
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