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.
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.
Forty years of Labyrinth on a giant screen in the middle of a cemetery and this blanket is doing a lot of the heavy lifting right now. You'd be completely useless next to me in this dark, babe.
MUNA at the Grammy Museum and I'm close enough to see every eyelash on Katie's guitar pick hand. This is the kind of night that makes you believe in small rooms and loud hearts — tell me you'd be standing right behind me, babe.
Got lost in old Tori Amos records getting ready for tonight's show and somewhere in there my clothes stopped being a priority. Blame the piano, babe.
Train just opened with Drops of Jupiter at the Greek and somehow I ended up here alone which feels like a crime. Bet you'd know every word too, babe.