I'm from a little bubble out west.
Wouldn't call it home, but that's for the best.
I traveled the country and found my place
with the wanderlusts and crusties taking up space.
Shit hit the fan when I came home
Soon I had to find a place to call my own
With no where to go, I put it on chance
Atlanta took it and I never looked back
When I came here I didnt have much
But my car and some paintings to hang up
Getting settled I was able to travel once again
But this time I could see the world instead.
So a vauge story short here I am.
A drifter and an artist with the world in his hands.