My sunday was a continuous and painful hangover after the 10-hours byebye party of my fav pub, seasoned by insane amounts of bloody marys and screwdrivers. (With Grey Goose nonetheless)
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Wound up, can't sleep, can't do anything right, little honey / Oh, since I set my eyes on you. / I tell you the truth. I can't get it right / Get it right / Since I met you...
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