we were young bitches in wonderland. we walked the walkstreets with squeaky Converse shoes and chests strong to and from the ocean and in between where there was nothing at all. we'd leave bars having drunk out of red tecate cans (or whatever was the cheapest) and if they gave us a pint glass we'd watch the bubbles rise up in the candle light to avert our eyes. many nights we'd run home, even if we were alone we'd run home, cuz being a young and fit couple of young bitches we had extra batteries to spare, even if at the time we felt like the tiredest sons of bitches on the planet
