Wonderwall
“Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you,” Erika sings to herself while cracking an egg one handedly into a pan sizzling with butter. Her other hand is occupied with a joint that she puffs before continuing, “by now you should've somehow realized what you gotta do. I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do, about you now.” In the oven bacon is crackling happily and she’s all but salivating, more than ready to dig into breakfast and enjoy a lazy Sunday in her pajamas.













