I'm just off to my dentistry seminar.
I could do you a little scale and polish later, if you like.
OK.
So, what's on the cards today?
The 11:50 at Wincanton is looking pretty interesting.
Bring it on.
Subtitles by MemoryOnSmells http://UKsubtitles.ru.
The thing is, you've been spending so much time on your music lately.
Song writing takes time, Heather. I'm not making lemonade here.
I'm making wine.
So, I put you down to play at the open mic night, tonight.
What the fuck? What?!
You'll come, won't you, JP?
Dude, I'll do better than come,
I'll join your fucking band right now.
No, thanks.
Mate, seriously, you can guitarisize and I'll be your hype man.
Hype man.
Yeah, you don't know.
♪ Yo-yo-yo-yo-yo-yo-yo-yo-yo-yo-yo, wasup?! ♪
I'm just checking, you're all OK for me to deploy the N-word?
No. I'm not.
Yeah but like in a friendly way? It's still a no.
JP. I'm not standing on the same stage as you.
Mate, why the frick not?
Because, you've got that whole James Blunt vibe going on.
What the hell is wrong with Blunters?
OK, that is enough.
So, I'm not allowed to drop the N-bomb in a friendly way
but it's alright for you to discriminate against me
because I'm posh? This is bullshit in extremis.
It's really sweet of you but I'm not ready to perform live yet.
Stop being such a fanny.
I'm not being a fanny.
That tuft on your face looks like a fanny.
It's not a tuft. It's a soul patch.
Hi, I'm back. God, what an eye-opener.
It's all about the bloody incisors.
I thought you were doing wisdoms?
It was both. We did both.
Yeah, Kingsley.
We are capable of simultaneously comprehending
two completely different teeth, you know. God, you're so judgemental.
Seriously, KD, what is your beef with Blunters?
It just feels really weird, lying to Kings.
You're not lying. You're just choosing not to tell him something
that happens to be temporarily true.
It's like telling your parents you're gay,
then two weeks later you're like,
"Oh, yeah, I've sorted everything out with the uni
"and now I'm straight again."
It's senseless. And as soon as I'm back on my course...
Josie, you're not coming back.
That's what they said about Jesus.
I just think trust is important. Me and the King.
'The King?'
We have a great relationship.
But if the trust goes, the intimacy goes and if the intimacy goes,
we're just two meat machines rubbing against each other. So...
It's embarrassing.
And I just don't want to deal with the whole thing
and all the questions, so just give me a couple of weeks.
Fine.
No, stop, stop, please.
Please not there, not there! Ow, ow, stop!
Do you reckon she's told him she fucked his dad yet?
Howard!
I'm getting a cab to the library if you want to hop in.
You know the deal, book caddy.
At your disposal.
This is my announcement - I am returning to Rotterdam.
I can no longer live like this.
You make too much noise and you accuse me
of burglarizing my own area and you are basically not good people.
All the best, yeah?
Um. Hugs?
Actually JP, I'm going to hang here for a bit.
If I strain my lumbar, I am small-claims-ing your arse.
♪ Like Jean Paul Sartre on coke
♪ My cheese is slipping off my toast
♪ Stop the sound of laughter in my brain
Wow, Kingsley, that was... amazing.
What would you even call that kind of music?
I guess that's for the NME to decide.
"Oh, everything in its little pigeon-hole."
Look, you're clearly nervous
and I've just foisted this thing on you, I had no right to foist.
And the point is, if you don't want to play, you don't have to.
No... you were right.
I was being a fanny.
Well, this fanny is going to rip Manchester a new arsehole.
Jay-Paedo! Long time no see.
Hey, guys. How's shit?
Amazing. Have you heard about Cunty?
Bro's got fucking ME.
He's been signed off until next year.
He's got to have cognitive physiotherapy. Lucky prick.
Oh, yeah. I'd fucking love to have ME.
Yeah, I hear that. Actually, I meant to drop you a text.
Now that he's out the picture,
there's a vacancy in the Stowe-Aways.
Are you serious?
Yeah, I'm as serious as anus cancer.
I mean obviously you'd have to go through the formal application process.
We are talking about Manchester's premier social dining society.
You interested?
Mate. I am as interested as anus cancer.
I... I'm interested.
Thank you, Howard, for carrying out the lightest piece of my luggage.
Is there something you wish to say to me?
Mind how you go?
Essays coming back to you now.
They weren't as woeful as I was anticipating, so kudos for that.
In the style of that timeless literary creation Mr William Wonka,
you'll find attached to each essay, a golden ticket.
Said ticket entitles bearer to attend one poetry recital
by renowned New Formalist, John Frobisher,
on whom I just happen to be a leading scholar.
Attendance is not mandatory,
though much like the aforementioned Chocolate Factory,
you may find it to be at once magical and indeed nourishing.
I think sometimes they just don't "get" me.
Like Kingsley the other day,
said that my white trousers wouldn't look good on stage.
But I think white trousers would be great on stage,
because people can see you really clearly!
That is exactly why you need to join the Stowe-Aways.Yeah!
I'm desperate to get back on the Bantasaurus.
The three of us, back together.
It'll be like a Bermuda Triangle of banter.
Bro, you do realise there's a bit more to being
a Stowe-Away than banter?
Yeah, it's not just about going to a Chinese restaurant
and doing a shit in a pint glass.
It is partly about that.
Well, look, it's about being a Stowe boy. It's about solidarity.
You're posh, JP. You'll always be posh. It's in your DNA.
It's, it's like an ethnicity,
like being black or Hindu or fucking Jedi.
We are the minority. We have to stick together.
Posh pride, bro.
Yeah, I've got fucking gooseflesh, yo.
Now, before I can anoint you as the newest member of our elite
dining circle, I have just one question for you.
And that is this...
would you be willing to smoke a pipe of my pubes?
Yes, I would.
Pube me up, boys. Pube me up.
IDs ready please. IDs.
Fucking Shales.
He's trying to keep me out of some poetry thing,
I don't even want to go to. Well, guess what. I'm going.
You in?
I'm doing something with Dylan.
Oh, really? Would that be, telling him you shagged his dad?
I've tried. He's just so pure and innocent.
It's like trying to stamp on a puppy.
All you got to do is, go up to him and say,
"Oi, Oedipus, I fucked your dad and I used to have a weird
"girl-crush on your mum. Get over it."
Just so you know, Oedipus is nothing like that.
Maybe I'll take him out for lunch somewhere tomorrow.
Somewhere public... so he can't cry.
See, now you're thinking.
She was right. Look at us.
We are not good people.
Oh, shit. Here we go.
Um. I'd like to dedicate this song to Heather.
I love you, babe.
This is the Implodium Implodes.
♪ Sitting here, in the darkness with my friends
♪ Mr Madness
♪ Hitting on my shoulder
♪ Making me feel older
♪ Best of me
♪ Is it the only thin left for me? ♪
So what did we think?
Yeah... It was really good.
I liked it.
Brilliant.
What the fuck were you doing with your neck?!
What?
You were like a fucking turtle!
What are you on about? No, I wasn't.
Erm... It was quite neck-heavy.
But what about the song?
It was quite hard to concentrate with all the neck business.
Oh, right. So basically I should just go backstage and hang myself?
I imagine hanging's going to be pretty tricky.
The amazing thing is, it actually tasted really great.
Oh, stupid cow!
Girl troubles?
My cousin.
It seems she's incapable of following basic instructions.
Sounds like the medical definition of terminal ball-ache.
Yeah. Oh, this is her.
Ca va? Bien et toi?
Ouais. Nous allons etre en retard. Mais t'etais ou?
J'ai pris le bus, comme tu m'as dit, le 520...
Shotgun!
Oh, hear he is. He's finally come out of his shell.
Yep, good one.
I heard it was really shit.
Oh, he's got good stuff, to be fair. You're just not a front man.
I don't suppose you'd fancy it?
What another band? And go through the whole A&R sausage factory
just to end up on the fucking hamster wheel
supporting Placebo around Benelux for six weeks? No, thanks.
You have one of the illest hype men in the whole of the North West
sitting next to you on the sofa, all you have to do is ask.
Ask Oregon.
Ask me what?
Do you want to be in Kingsley's band?
Hang on, can you even sing?
Yeah, yeah, I can do sort of, erm...
♪ Black velvet in a little boy's smile
♪ Black velvet and that slow Southern style
♪ A new religion that will bring it to your knees
♪ Black velvet if you please. ♪
Yeah, OK... You're in.
Cool, yeah.
I, er... really like your jumper.
What is that, a turtleneck?
Pointless.
Remember, cos he looked like a turtle?
Yes.
So this is the verse?
No, that's the pre-verse. That's the verse.
That's the middle-eight, that's the break-down,
and then we're into the outro,
and then we do the intro but an octave higher...
Shall we just try it?
Yeah.
This... ends now.
We're in the middle of something, Howard.
I can just about the tolerate the abstract idea
that we have a band made up of housemates,
but what I cannot abide is having to literally sit down and listen to it.
Just give us half an hour.
Put the guitar down right now
or I'm browning you out.
What?
You just got browned out, buddy!
Where were we?
The power's gone.
Howard.
Of course I've been to Paris.
Morrison's grave, Mona Lisa, baguette, brie.
Boom! In and out, one hour 45.
Fruity beckons. Feed the beast.
Your English is excellent, by the way.
How is your French?
Oh, I know all the... major swear words.
Merde, je t'en...
Je t'encule.
Je t'encule... le chatte.
Lachatte.
Enough to get by.
Tobes tells me you're into skiing.
Please. You are not interested in my ski stories.
Oh, no, I am, I love skiing. I'm a real slopemonkey.
Cut me open and I bleed... skiing.
Well, I have just done my level one instructor course.
The level two test takes ten days,
so I want to do that maybe over Christmas.
And, er... how about you?
I once took a piss out of a ski lift in Val d'Isere.
My friend told me that my piss would freeze on the way down
so I'd have like a 100m-long piss sword.
But er... that... that doesn't happen.
Dylan. There's something I need to tell you.
Oh? Sounds ominous.
Nothing bad... Not really bad.
The thing is Dylan...
One sec... Hey, Dad.
Hi, erm... I'm just out for some lunch.
Yeah, the Lamplighter, just off Dean Street.
Do you mind if my dad joins us?
Yes.
He won't stay long.
I get nervous round parents, I'm actually very parent-averse.
Yep.
He was just round the corner. I couldn't say no.
Right! Well...
I think it's actually pretty shoddy, Dylan.
I mean you can't just invite your dad round
because he's around the corner, just on a blind whim.
Melissa, it's OK. Look, I know this is a big step...
No, no, it's all gone to pot. It's shoddy!
Shame on you!
Hi!
It's like I was genuinely interested in what she had to say.
Incredible.
Cause you know the way normally when you're talking to a chick,
You're making all the right noises, "Oh? Yeah? Oh? Interesting, hmm."
But actually all you're doing is looking down their top.
Mm-hm.
Well, it wasn't like that.
Oh, well, if you like her, just... don't have sex with her straightaway.
Get to know her a bit first.
Yeah, well, that cannot and will not happen.
Ralph called shotgun on her.
You can't... call shotgun on a person.
Well, I'm pretty sure you can.
You definitely can't.
So you've never heard the expression "Calling shotgun"?
Yeah, it refers to the passenger seat of a car.
OK. Sure, Kingsley.
Whatever makes you happy.
Howard! I want my power back.
Why? To ride roughshod over me with your inoffensive indie music?
It's not inoffensive.
To be fair, Howie, it's not really your power to take away.
No? The fuse box in my bedroom would beg to differ.
Why do you think I took the ground floor?
Hmm? He who controls the power... controls the power.
Is that a saying?
Yeah, it is.
Things are going to change round here.
It's about time you learned about mutual respect.
Welcome to the age of the rolling brown-out.
Melissa?
Oh, hi, Dylan!
Are you OK? It's just...
It's been like 25 minutes.
Yeah. I think it was those prawns, I just did really a funny poo.
Did you want me to call a doctor?
No, no... I'm quite comfy here, actually.
Could I just wait in here until I feel better?
OK, erm, I will... check on you in a bit.
OK, bye!
Yeah, hello!
'I'm trapped in a toilet.'
Trapped how?
I was out with Dylan, Shales turned up, I panicked. Do something.
Like what?
I don't know, you're the ideas man, think of something!
Phone in a bomb threat. Yeah, that'll work.
Wait there, I've got another call. Speak.
I've just seen Josie come out of the bookies.
She's supposed to be in a lecture with Heather.
Shit! Follow her!
Really?
'Yeah, I saw her eating a Solero in a playground.'
Bookies, ice creams... God, this is skaghead territory.
Is it?
Stay on her. Wait there. Yo, what's happening?
Why would they make the window so tiny?! This is just stupid!
Oh.
Kingsley, talk to me.
OK, she's just gone into a shop and bought a copy of a magazine.
Oh, shit! Look, don't let her out your sight.
I'm telling you, she's on the last train to smackville.
OK.
'I'm going to do it.'
I'm going to walk out there and I'm going to face the music.
'Goodbye, Vod.'
Goodbye.
We could try to do a regular Sunday-lunch thing.
Oh, er, Dad.
I'd like you to meet Melissa.
She's my girlfriend.
Hi.
Oh. You'll be all right if I nip to the loo? He might bore you to death.
I'm fine with it, by the way.
I didn't know he was your son when we first slept together.
Don't go on about it! Don't keep going on about it.
Please don't tell him.
He needs to know.
I'll work something out. I am going to tell him.
But, you know, you're old, you might die.
Move to Buxton with me right now.
Let's just pack the complete works of Thoreau and move to Buxton.
Tony!
You obviously still like me. You're fucking my son, for fuck's sake.
He's like a small me.
Why would you want the small me when you could have big me?
So... what did I miss?
Nothing. Just a load of waffle from boring, boring old me.
Poor girl.
She ended up... erm...
sitting on the kerb outside Wenzel's reading Grazia and drinking Irn-Bru?
What a fucking cliche.
Just another dope-fiend hitting the Irn-Bru.
A house band - tick.
A member of the household with substance abuse issues - tick.
We need to do something.
Give me your belts. Every belt you own.
We're belting her down.
48-hour belt-down.
We need to call her mum. Does anyone have her mum's number?
Why are you getting yourself in such a state about it?
Josie's a smackhead.
Do you not know what that means?
Have you not seen The Wire?
Oh, what is it with people and The Wire?
Even if she is, which she definitely isn't,
why are you getting your panties so bunched up about it?
My panties are not bunched up.
My panties are loose and comfortable,
but the fact remains that a member of our house is going through a crisis
and I think it behoves us all to...
Behoves?!
Yes, behovesus to give a shit about it.
How do you know she's not a smackhead?
Because she's not, OK?
She's been kicked off her course. What?
She put an implement through a woman's cheek and she's got a hole.
Holy shit.
I would actually quite like to see that.
She didn't want you to find out - she's embarrassed.
Josie.
It's over. They know.
Are there any photos, do we know, of said cheeky hole?
So how are things going with Celeste?
She is boring as bollocks, but, still,
I'm going to ruin that.
Don't ruin it. I mean, mess it up,
but don't ruin it.
I've actually got a favour. Your first assignment as a Stowe-Away.
I'm going to Scotland tomorrow night.
There's a debutante ball for Dippy Middleton.
There's another Middleton?
They kept her on lockdown, embargoed her till she went legal.
The only problem is, Frenchie's drawing a lot of heat,
so I want you to keep an eye on her for me.
Chaperone her, take her out.
Really?
Make sure no-one trespasses on my property. Cock-block that vadge.
Mate, I will literally cock-block the shit out of it.
I'll be jumping in front of flying cocks
like Costner in The fucking Bodyguard.
Yeah!
That's out.
Yeah, yeah, it was.
Josie, this is really bad.
It's a challenge. It's a mountain I must climb
to clear my name of my so-called of fence.
You disfigured a human woman.
"Disfigured" is a very emotive word, Vod.
I would like to take this opportunity to formally cancel
my scale and polish.
Have you spoken to your head of department?
Yes.
OK, so what's the next step?
The next step is a... grassroots campaign
to replace my head of department.
Josie...
I don't say this to be horrible...
but... I don't think you can be a dentist anymore.
But all I wanted was to give myself to dental hygiene.
Put the kettle on.
Oi, Oompa-Loompa, do you need to see my golden ticket?
Cos I haven't got one.
Do they have any fresh orange?
They've got this.
It tastes like dusty vinegar with some piss in it.
Stick that on your tasting notes.
How was the thing? Was it shit?
Probably.
It was your thing, wasn't it?
Kind of, yeah.
Right.
No, I would have come earlier, only...
To be honest, I'm only here to spite someone.
I didn't catch your name.
Vod.
John Frobisher.
Easy, John Frobisher.
I've put us down for the open mic tomorrow night.
I just think I need to get back out there.
I've thought of some names.
Oh. Er... yeah... great.
OK.
Trash Baby?
Too American.
Leitmotif?
Too pretentious.
The Time Bandits?
That makes us sound like dwarves.
Mulberry Wine?
That makes us sound like fell-walkers.
Corporate Cannibal?
Just rubbish.
High Jinx? Jinx with an X.
Again, rubbish.
Fiddler's Shilling?
Too medieval.
Kingsley and Oregon?
Derivative.
The Black Ponies?
No Thes.
Black Ponies?
No colours.
Ponies? No animals. I don't think this is going to work out.
Oh, come on, don't be so precious.
No, this is your thing.
Maybe you should just do the gig on your own.
Erm... OK, if it means that much to you,
how about you just pick a name and I'll go with it?
OK. Erm...
then we are called...
Hartnell Avenue.
Oh, we're all out of dusty piss vinegar.
In that case, we need to take our custom elsewhere. Where's nice?
Do you want nice or do you want good?
I've got a flight in four hours. I want whiskey.
Well, that's lucky John Frobisher,
because I know somewhere that sells whiskey.
Oh, here he comes, Willy Wanker.
So what are we talking about?
Fish-gutting. Ever done it?
No. It shows.
I'll get my things.
You're leaving together?
Not like that. Pervert. It's going for a drink.
He's drinking? Jesus Christ, he's supposed to be on the wagon.
Well, then, I guess shit just happened.
If you get a chance, ask him who the red lady is.
What red lady?
It's one of the last great literary enigmas.
Find out who the red lady is and let's just say...
I'll make it worth your while.
Money?
Money. A small amount of money.
It's not a song, it's not even a song.
It's an odyssey.
I've got one. A song.
You... you write?
Well, I wouldn't call it writing, per se.
Careful.
I'm actually a bit embarrassed to play it to you,
but it goes kind of...
♪ On a dusty road
♪ I took some turns
♪ And I don't want to look back
♪ Now you've got my back and I've got yours
♪ I was lost like a ship
♪ Swept up and crashed upon these rocks
♪ You shone your light, guided me into your arms
♪ So shine on me
♪ Shine your light down on me
♪ You turn this ember
♪ Into a flame. ♪
And then there's, like, a verse and a chorus.
What do you think?
A bit slow and depressing.
Just so you don't hear it second-hand,
I wanted you to know that I've been kicked off my course.
I'm officially no longer a student.
Fuck my mouth! But... what happens now?
Well, right now I'm going to make some more crumbles,
then I'm going on a five-mile ramble to Healey Dell,
and then later this afternoon I'm going zorbing.
Zorbing?
Yeah, they put you in a big plastic hamster ball
and then push you down a hill.
So if you're asking, "Do I miss dentistry?"
Crumbles, rambles, zorbing.
Why are there crumbles everywhere?
Oh, I thought it'd be nice.
Dude, problemo.
Ralph's out of town and he's asked me to look after Celeste.
So?
Dude, I've got heavy nuts for this chick.
I want to inseminate her.
Romantically.
Then you should. Live life, you know, go for it. Carpe diem.
This one's strawberries and apples.
But she's Ralph's property.
I mean, whether or not "shotgun" would hold up in a court of law,
that's for the lawyers to decide.
It wouldn't.
But I just can't do it. I'm a Stowe-Away now.
I have to honour my breed.
I've found us a bongo player.
I didn't know we were looking.
Oh, just gives a bit of depth. Why are there crumbles everywhere?
I thought it'd be nice!
Erm, hello! I play bongos.
You know that guy at the house party smashed off his tits,
reefer hanging out of his chops,
playing the bongos with his shirt off?
Muggins.
Stop talking so loud!
Erm... we're not.
Brown-out.
Fuck.
Right. That's it.
Howard, please may you stop browning us out?
You drove her away.
With your... noise and your bad manners.
Well, good luck making noise without your precious power.
Do you like crumble?
Do we have custard?
I've brought you a pear and mandarin crumble.
Nice one.
Just had a text off Dylan... about John Frobisher.
I didn't shag him, if that's the rumour.
We just ended up doing a load of yayo
in the disabled bogs in the White Bear and he gave me a book.
He died.
He was flying home. They just found him after take-off.
They had to ground the plane.
Apparently he'd been drinking.
Shit! I gave him a bottle of whiskey to take on the plane.
Shit.
I killed Frobisher!
Shit!
No, hang on. He wouldn't have got it through customs.
Good point.
He must have downed it before he got on the plane.
Shit! I killed Frobisher!
Shit!
Shit.
Do you want to come and see my band play tonight?
Yeah, all right.
Yeah.
All IDs ready, please.
Can everyone stop asking me if I'm OK?
I spent the afternoon in a seven-foot inflatable sphere.
What do you reckon? I'm having the time of my young fucking life.
All I want to do is see Kingsley's band and have a dance.
Good luck dancing to Implodium. Physically impossible.
I can't let you in. Your student card's invalid.
What are you on about?
Right, I demand to see the ents manager.
Who is the ents manager?
Gareth Bywater.
Right, where's Bywater?
You guys just... just go on ahead and I'll be there in a minute.
Come on.
I...er... made you something.
Er, it is a list of obscure French swearwords.
I had it laminated.
Wow, that's amazing.
There's some good ones on there. Erm...
er... "Swallow my balls."
And, er, "Your mother sucks bears in the forest."
Your gift is very kind, but...
I think it's best if we don't talk again for the rest of the evening.
OK, thank you very much. Coming up tonight we have Hartnell Avenue
and Electric Riot. Thank you!
I hope you're excited. You're fucking a rock star.
Hello, again.
Oh, he twisted my arm. He wanted to see you play.
It would seem you're a girl of many talents, Melissa.
I've got to go and do my vocal warm-ups now.
OK.
Don't think you can just brush me under the carpet.
She likes me, Howard.
But there's nothing I can do.
If I touch her, Ralph's going to break my legs.
To surmise,
is the pleasure in your penis worth the pain in your legs?
Oh, God, I don't know.
It's difficult.
It's like some sort of ancient Chinese logic puzzle.
I can't believe he's dead.
Can you?
He was so alive.
And now just so fucking not.
Yeah. Massive boo-hoo.
Although, bit of a bonus.
"Hello, is that the UK's leading Frobisher scholar?
"This is the obituary department of The Guardian newspaper.
"Could you furnish us with a quote
"that will in no way harm the sales of your forthcoming book?"
Kerching, kerching.
The thing about Stowe is that...
Truly, they are not ready for what is about to happen upon them.
We've just had another band turn up.
We can only give you five minutes.
I...I don't know. I guess we'll just have to do an abridged Implodium.
We could just do my song?
Yeah, why don't we just vote on it?
All right, well... who votes for Implodium?
Can I...? For the record, I never even wanted a fucking bongo player.
Kingsley!
You know what? I quit.
This is bullshit.
We've sold out, and we haven't even played a fucking gig.
Yeah, well, good luck without me.
"Get to fuck."
They do it to each other.
"Get to fuck."
Evening, chaps.
I see you've been infringing on my copyright.
Yeah...
I guess I have... Ralph.
Because you know what?
Fuck the Stowe-Aways.
I've found something better.
You're dead to us, JP. Why don't you go down the Hippodrome?
We're going to be finger-banging on yachts.
Mmm.
Yeah, you walk away, mate.
Er... how does he mean,
infringing on his copyright?
Oh, it's no big deal.
Basically, he shotgunned you, so I thought you were out of bounds,
but then I decided that I would contravene his shotgun
with a shotgun of my own.
So you know... Shotgun!
La raison pour laquelle je ne peux pas parler
c'est parce qu'un mec a dit le mot shotgun
et tout d'un coup je lui appartiens
comme si j'etais un putain morceau de viande.
Yeah, I think we're going to have to Google Translate that.
Mainly good or bad?
Va te faire foutre, encule!
Whoa, that was a little uncalled for.
We're going.
What? What about the band?
I quit.
Hi, we're Hartnell Avenue.
Is that a good idea? Heather, can we just go?
No, sure, I'll come and... whatever, stand outside with you.
I just really like this song, Kings. Sorry, I just do.
Give me two minutes.
♪ I took some turns
♪ And I don't want to look back... ♪
Aren't you supposed to be on stage?
I quit, I quit my own band.
They seem to be doing pretty well without me.
I preferred their earlier material, anyway.
I'm a bit scared.
♪ Through the heavy rain tonight
♪ When you shine on me
♪ Shine your light down on me
♪ You turn this ember into a flame. ♪
Thanks.
Yeah!
This is so fucked.
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