clas of 1998Class of 1998. We had such promise, I'm sureI was told we were the futureI often wondered where we'd be in our liveswhen I'm the ripe old age of 25...But after gradualtion we went our ways,the punk kids that picked on me went out the strung out way.The gangstahs have all been shot.The skin heads are selling jamaican pot.Yeah I'm 25 and I realize I have no moreHS friends 'cept a bottle I met senior year.The more I think of it the more I realize i've wasted so long,drank my memories gone.I've traded in my blade but not to stoptook it for cash into the pawn shop,used the cash bought some pills and beer.Took the vicodin and rum without fear.Passed out hard dropped the pills.picked up some habits and nasty chills.Turned to other thingslike acid and skankweed.you know the things that look for the kill.now as I glace back at the bridgetown hillsI see no visions of gold.Only reminders of the cold.They were the worst days in my life.No real friends, never tho
looks greatr sweet coloring ^^