Liz Phair just opened with "Fuck and Run" and the whole Greek sang it back like a confession. Already hoarse and Sleater-Kinney hasn't even touched the stage — tell me you wouldn't lose your voice too.
Liz Phair just opened with "Fuck and Run" and the whole Greek sang it back like a confession. Already hoarse and Sleater-Kinney hasn't even touched the stage — tell me you wouldn't lose your voice too.
String quartet inside the dome at Mount Wilson and the acoustics up here are something else. The whole mountain goes still when the bow finds the first note — bet you'd forget how to breathe too, babe.
Film scores echoing through open sky and every movie I've ever loved is playing behind my eyes. Bet you'd know which theme would undo me, babe.
Woke up with Sweet Child O' Mine already in my head and now it's blasting through every speaker I own. Guns N' Roses at the Rose Bowl tonight and I can't sit still long enough to bother with clothes. Bet you'd be just as bad, babe.
Death By Sexy turns twenty tonight and Eagles of Death Metal are throwing the party at The Bellwether. Left the house looking like trouble and I haven't fixed a single button since — you'd be staring the whole ride, babe.
Morning vocal warm-ups and this shirt is basically see-through in the light. You'd get nothing done if you lived here, babe.
Face-down on the bed with zero motivation to get dressed for anything. You'd just make this worse, babe.
BTS at SoFi tonight and I've had the setlist on repeat since I opened my eyes. My voice is already half gone and the show's not for hours — you coming with me, babe?
Still buzzing from Echo Park Rising and my body hasn't figured out the festival's over. Come help me burn off the rest of this energy, babe.
Sunday night and the only thing worth eating in this kitchen is on the top shelf. This shirt wasn't built for reaching, babe.