Old Money
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WpMetadataReadConcluida dom, dic 16, 20188m
Blue hydrangea, cold cash divine Cashmere, cologne and white sunshine Red racing cars, sunset and vine The kids were young and pretty Where have you been? Where did you go? Those summer nights seem long ago And so is the girl you used to call The queen of New York City But if you send for me, you know I'll come And if you call for me, you know I'll run I'll run to you, I'll run to you I'll run, run, run I'll come to you, I'll come to you I'll come, come, come Oh-oh oh, oh-oh oh The power of youth is on my mind Sunsets, small town, I'm out of time Will you still love me when I shine From words but not from beauty My father's love was always strong My mother's glamour lives on and on Yet still inside, I felt alone For reasons unknown to me But if you send for me, you know I'll come And if you call for me, you know I'll run I'll run to you, I'll run to you I'll run, run, run I'll come to you, I'll come to you I'll come, come, come Oh-oh oh, oh-oh oh And if you call I'll run, run, run If you change your mind, I'll come, come, come Oh-oh oh, ah-ah ah Blue hydrangea, cold cash divine Cashmere, cologne and hot sunshine Red racing cars, sunset and vine And we were young and pretty ~Old Money >Lana Del Rey {A story based on the song by Lana Del Rey. }
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My Girl

Cal Jackson's new life as a rockstar fails to account for one thing: the existence of the girl he loves. ***** "What are you thinking about?" she asks. "A song," I say. "A new song." I stare at the ocean as I sing the song that I wrote, something that comes from the darkest place of my heart. "Do you even know how gifted you are?" she whispers. "You're destined to be someone big, Cal." "Really?" "Yeah." ***** She's perfect in every way. Beautiful. Smart. Her bright future is right there in front of her eyes. While here I am. Ruined. No college, let alone a future. Just an image of a wannabe rockstar with tattoed arms and an old guitar. I knew that our story would be no less than that tragic Romeo and Juliet shit the moment I laid my eyes on her, but still, I can't resist her. The moment she whispers my name, "Cal," I lose all sanity. She becomes my melody, my lyrics, the song that keeps echoing in my ears. People call her Mia. I call her my Amy, her name crafted above my beating heart, tattoed on my skin. Amelia Davis is my girl. Mine. And only mine. ***** THE JACKSONS BOOK #1 © 2021 Anya Jayvyn. All Rights Reserved. (Content warning: This book has descriptive sexual content and explicit language)

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