Laura, Lauraville is the place that never gave me a fill
Night, Nightwish in the light yellow, graze your fingertips with a bite
I like to touch that which will never be mine. You will never be mine
Silt in the yard. Two tomatoes and a pickle stuffed in a jar for you
I love you. I need you to think that I'm pretty. Believe that I'm pretty
Say that I'm pretty