City High

I'm experiencing some hard-hitting flashbacks to singing this obsessively every break time for at least a year with my un-madeup school friends. Bastille know how to twist the shit out of childhood memories...

I miss, part one

I miss sunshiney Pimms picnics on the castle tourist pit of a lawn, up by the sket hole that is BZR in Nottingham city centre.
I miss sharing a smile Nana Dawg as we smirked smugly at poor Wally, long before he lost himself in angular pretention. I remember the olives, the feta, the grease caught sneakily beneath the finger nails and the grimey sight of mediterranean herbs caught between your perfect teeth.
I miss the days of the haze. The warm pints of cider, sipped from crooked lips smeared with last night's lipstick and alcohol. I miss the days of the haze. The harsh discussions of literature, musicality, lyricism and film. European cinema was your forte baby, but I was, at the time, too vain to care, preferring instead the gossip surrounding my beloved Brooklyn boys, the bands and the bastards, the kisses and broken promises. I prefered the frosting to the sponge of your perfect non-birthday cake. You smothered your cheek bones with the moist sponge, whipped up for you in my frenzy of ever-ageing love and respect.

You're so worth my while. And baby girl, you always fucking will be.

Flashbakk, part two

Oh how I miss the days when I possessed the pins to strut about the cobbled streets of Liverpool in patent shoe boots and skin tight sweat-inducing snakeskin spiderswebbed pvc leggings.

Time for diet mtn dew to commence...

Clean Break

Shout out to my big bro, Sneckle.

Asiftosay,asiftosay,shedoesn'tlikechocolate

Are you hoping for a miracle?

Cringin', Number One

Major flashback. I love this song, though it's totally shameful to admit. Also, my first boyfriend was obsessed with this guy. Cannot believe I lost my virginity to that motherfucker. Gross, innit.

Bitches ain't shit but hoes and trickz

Dirty boy flash back. Bitch cain't hang witt the streets.