blame it on my wild heart

I live in sydney. I love words, nostalgia, and scruffy-haired boys. also, clean sheet day. this is pretty much a scrapbook.

don't blame it on me, blame it on my wild heart.
me? course I want something
I want a buckle made of shiny silver to fasten to my shoes
I want a dress with lace
I want perfume
I want to be pretty
wanna smell like a honeysuckle vine
I want things I can’t tell you about
things so nice that if they ever did happen to ya
your heart would quit beating