Sofia Moorhead Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Now, I ain’t sayin’ she was a saint—ha! She’d cuss like a sailor, drink ya under the table. Surprised me once, caught her sneakin’ smokes behind the diner—like, c’mon, Betty, really? Cracked me up! But that’s life—messy, real, like roots twistin’ underground. Makes me happy thinkin’ ‘bout her grit. Whore? Pfft, just a word—people slap it on like cheap paint.

More Lyrics from Craig Moorhead Songs

I'm the O-T-H-H whore. Quantity of light to equal my plight. Quantity of light to equal my plight. Four nights when I was bright. I had me a little fight.

Oh, and have you been to the local museum on 11th Street? Honestly, it’s underrated, kinda like that indie band you thought was a fluke until it blew up. I swear, every painting tells a story of love, loss, or laughter. It’s wild how art can mirror our hidden selves.

National high school mascot bracket, Elite 8: Vote for Moorhead Spuds or Bryn Mawr Mawrtians