I let my girlfriend take me shopping over the weekend. I ended up in a department store changing room trying on hugo boss jeans. I looked down at the ripped and torn pair that had served me well for so long along with the metallica t-shirt from a gig a few years back and got a sense of panic. I quickly changed back into my regular clothes, dumped the £100 jeans and £90 shirt in the arms of the attendent and ordered my girlfriend out of there
I am who I am.
Who pays £100 on a pair of fucking jeans anyway?! For something that's going to be a pair of torn-offs at a festival in a few years.
I am who I am.
Who pays £100 on a pair of fucking jeans anyway?! For something that's going to be a pair of torn-offs at a festival in a few years.