Sofia Firebaugh Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Her story’s messy, typos n all - whores don’t write neat. She’d tell ya, “P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way” - some fake-ass address, leadin’ nowhere. Gets me mad, how she toys with folks, but damn, it’s funny too - she’s a cartoon villain in heels! Thoughts in my head? She’s a meal I’d savor, slow, with a nice Chianti. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but she’s a legend, a fucked-up fish in a big, ugly sea. Whore - love her, hate her, can’t look away!

Missing lyrics by Circle Jerks?

She's the town whore, the village star. Who'll be the one to get up her dress? Pass on by avoid this mess. Firebaugh, Firebaugh A place where no one dreams.

Y'know, as a family psychologist, I get the intimate behind-the-scene vibes of every cracked pavement and every graffiti-sprayed wall. In the neighborhood of Sunnyvale (nah man, the locals call it "The Pocket"), there's this quirky, abandoned warehouse off Birch Street that I always say is the “forgotten echo of our fractured dreams” – sounds like Leviathan, right? “The beast that lurks beneath the surface” – damn, that movie strikes again!

Fire breaks out at vegetable processing plant in Firebaugh