The limo pulled up outside the house with a smooth rush of engines. I peered at it from behind the net curtains, anxious, waiting to see what would come out, but there was nothing, just the eery black glint of the tinted windows, staring back at me like giant blank eyes. TIt stopped there for a minute or so, engines still running, then drove on, leaving no trace behind, as if it had never been.
The inherent mystery that always seems to surround these sleek black autos hardly ever lives up to its intrigue. It’s probably just a bunch of annoying teenagers going to prom. Or a wedding. Booorrring!
prom; at my school no one can take a limo and everyone has to go to the school get breathalized and then get on big clunky buss! im only a sophomore and i still wished i got my limo ride when i went
Is this like the car that none of us ever ride in unless we rent one for an event with a bar, and comfy seats and perhaps a hot tub in the back if you happen to be in Motley Crue. What ever happened to them eh?
Get in, drive away. Green grass and the edge of summer and your hand in mine, because this is the last great adventure. The last big thing. And we’re rocketing toward the end, you and me, but tonight is our night. Ours and theirs and there’s photo evidence that once, you loved me too.
stretched across the floor. the mess we all adore. passed out bodies, curled up toes. at a loss. fulfilled. happiness, confusion. stretched across the floor. smiles and chaos. drunken whispers echo through the stitches, cushions. passed out bodies, curled up toes. ravished hypocrisy.
i wonder if they will take us in a limo. and if they do bring us in a limo, what will go on? will we all just sit and talk like we do at lunch? will i sit next to max? do i have to? after a slow dance with max,.. what do i do? usually i would turn around and start grinding… but it is a school dance and i actually know him. is he gonna grind with me? what is gonna happen? how are we gonna get to the after party? what is gonn happen at the after party? will i have to make the first move if i want to kiss him? will he just start to kiss me while we are dancing? talking? sitting in silence? what will happen. oh the questions of the middle school semi. i just want everything to be perfect.
I’ve never been in a limo (that I can recall). I don’t really find them all that impressive. I usually just assume that it’s some self-important douche-bag inside, or at least, someone who wants to be a self-important douche-bag. meh.
stretched across the floor. the mess we all adore. passed out bodies, curled up toes. at a loss. fulfilled. happiness, confusion. stretched across the floor. smiles and chaos.
I want to ride in a limo with someone I love. I want to stick my head out the window on the top and scream and drink champagne. Limos remind me of lots of shows I watch – “How I met your mother”; “24” – people are aways riding in limos and either shooting people or having sex in them.
I step up into the limo with the driver outside the door. Is this what its like to be famous? I could get get used to this. But its all fake any way. That is where my dream always ends at. The limo.
Get in and drive away from the concrete cracks. Leave the dead children, deformed men with begging bowls, crying, heroin addicted teens, pregnant alcoholics. Enjoy paradise.
we found ourselves here, overextended, after a night of too many words. you’re the bucket queen, all champagne IV drips and diamond earrings. push me into the leather, and I’ll tell you about my day.
windows are dark things. you don’t see that in churches. church windows are all about colour and light, and maybe that’s why people turn to religion. but car windows are things to hide behind. you can’t trust the dark, so bring your friends, there’s safety in numbers.
carry me please, with champagne and liveliness, no buzzing around except for in our bodies, we drink and we smile and we clap and we converse till we arrive at our location, destined to pull up just at the right time. we parade out and sip to our days
There was nothing more entertaining then a ride in the limo with Haruhi Fujioka. It was not like a normal ride, in which you would sit awkwardly and stare out a window. No, it was filled with the interesting conversation of the one who you might actually love. The idea of that made Kyouya Ootori almost shiver with anticipation for the time, after the Host Club in which he would sit and ride with her.
Limos are for the wealthy, but I’ve never been inside one. My family’s humility prevented us from such measures, and that was often mistaken for something… less than wealth, let’s say. When prom came around when I was a teenager, I found myself less enchanted than I had hoped when my father offered to drive me in his Honda.
The streets were dire, empty and cold. I sat on the street, fag in hand, the weight of the world on my shoulders. Bills for dads hospice, piling up on in my hallway. This was a desperate time. The limo pulled up, window slowly pulled down, today he would be my saviour.
The limo pulled up in front of Schewlt’s restaurant. Paparazzi milled around wanting to take the best shot possible as the occupant exited the vehicle.
“Excuse me! Mr. Carrigan, over here please!” a man shouted.
The tall man with the broad shoulders waved. His grin exhibited pearly whites as his mustache curled at the corners of his mouth.
At the Hollywood Bowl an unknown orchestra band was scheduled to play. That was the main reason was for the C.E.O’s visit; his nephew had bought him a front row seat.
The limo came p to the curb, we climbed in with exuberant cstasy. Prom night. Its finally prom night. I refused to allow rebecca blacks horrible rendition of prom night cross through my mind, but just by thinking that, i already did. Oh and here comes friday now too. Its friday, friday…ugh oh the joys of teen pop sensations.
It stretches, it carries the luxurious, the fortunate, the oblivious. What is in a limo that one cannot find in the streets of your mind. Your mind, as similar to the limo can carry all that the limo does, if one believes it can.
I imagine going out with a bunch of friends to enjoy a fun night. It also sparks memories of what old hollywood must have been like. Champagne, glamour and richness. I wish I could spend one day being old hollywood glam.
Every time I see a limo, I wonder who’s inside.
I want to know who they are, if they’re famous or not.
I want to know why they’re here right now, on this street.
I want to know where they’re going.
I want to know if, behind those almost illegally tinted windows, they’re staring back at me.
Limo.
I rode in a limo once. It was really creepy experience. It was Lauren’s 16th birthday. 10 of our closest friends packed into this limo, wearing formal dresses in the middle of December. The driver was this old man who was secretly taking pictures of us…. I kid you not.
He then asked if we wanted to go to “Love Circle”, a place where you could see all the lights in the city.
Hell to the no.
I haven’t ridden in a limo since.
A limo approached the curb. Delilah stopped short and caught her breath. Could it be him? Yes, she prayed, yes, let it be him. The limo’s door swung open and he stepped out and onto the sidewalk.
yellow lime. mmm, limon with some lays. mouth watering taste. i wish i could have this but too bad im stuck at glendale memorial :/ still, limon and a niiice food sounds good. limo, i wish i drove in one errday.
The kids were all hyped, prom was approaching with rapid steps. Some of the wealthier kids was bragging to any who would hear about the limo they were going to rent. Others from more suburban environments only talked about whether or not they were going.
He was in the limo the night of the crash. He had lost everything in the blink of an eye. He had know idea of what was to come and the road he would be taken down after her death. He loved his Elizabeth, and would do anything to find out who did this.
I’m in the very backseat;
Waiting for the sky to go bright.
Not thinking about anything but
Me and my new fame.
Not thinking about my past or
How that horrid man hurt me.
It’s just me and my fame.
I made it without him.
i love the thought of a limozine. Ive only been inside one limozine in my life and i was 5 years old. it was for my aunt and uncle’s wedding and i was extremely overwhelmed. I remember as a child, everyone thought this was the absolute best vehicle ever to be known to man kind.
whenever i see a limo drive by, i assume that inside, there is a ridiculously famous celebrity inside, sipping on champagne and laughing with a wonderfully fake laugh with all the friends whose names they can’t remember.
My favorite wat to travel hate the horrible stretch ghetto nastiness versions like them classy and smaller silver cloud is a favorite John Porter was the limo queen always had a limo hookup grateful
As the morning sun began it’s slow ascent over the valley hills, it sped through the winding roads overlooking the city. Sleek and black, the trees said quick hellos across it’s deep dark shining paint as it carved it’s way to an uncertain destination. For very many years it’s occupants hid out in plain sight. They said all there was to say, argued all there was to argue, and frankly they were getting sick of the smell and the shedding hair of the Yeti that always insisted on sitting bitch, Hoffa especially.
a car something that people take to prom or very important parties. dressing up, famous people use them. ive been in them a few times before. theyre really fun. they come in black white and probably other colors. i really want to go to junior prom in one next year. theyre used for weddings. long cars with a ton of windows they are pretty good and aweomes
As the limo pulled to the curb in front of my home, I knew I was in for a treat. The long sleek row of doors began to swing open, as I craned my neck to see who it was. I had never had anyone visit in a new car, let alone a stretch limousine.
The limo pulled up outside the house with a smooth rush of engines. I peered at it from behind the net curtains, anxious, waiting to see what would come out, but there was nothing, just the eery black glint of the tinted windows, staring back at me like giant blank eyes. TIt stopped there for a minute or so, engines still running, then drove on, leaving no trace behind, as if it had never been.
The inherent mystery that always seems to surround these sleek black autos hardly ever lives up to its intrigue. It’s probably just a bunch of annoying teenagers going to prom. Or a wedding. Booorrring!
prom; at my school no one can take a limo and everyone has to go to the school get breathalized and then get on big clunky buss! im only a sophomore and i still wished i got my limo ride when i went
Is this like the car that none of us ever ride in unless we rent one for an event with a bar, and comfy seats and perhaps a hot tub in the back if you happen to be in Motley Crue. What ever happened to them eh?
Get in, drive away. Green grass and the edge of summer and your hand in mine, because this is the last great adventure. The last big thing. And we’re rocketing toward the end, you and me, but tonight is our night. Ours and theirs and there’s photo evidence that once, you loved me too.
stretched across the floor. the mess we all adore. passed out bodies, curled up toes. at a loss. fulfilled. happiness, confusion. stretched across the floor. smiles and chaos. drunken whispers echo through the stitches, cushions. passed out bodies, curled up toes. ravished hypocrisy.
i wonder if they will take us in a limo. and if they do bring us in a limo, what will go on? will we all just sit and talk like we do at lunch? will i sit next to max? do i have to? after a slow dance with max,.. what do i do? usually i would turn around and start grinding… but it is a school dance and i actually know him. is he gonna grind with me? what is gonna happen? how are we gonna get to the after party? what is gonn happen at the after party? will i have to make the first move if i want to kiss him? will he just start to kiss me while we are dancing? talking? sitting in silence? what will happen. oh the questions of the middle school semi. i just want everything to be perfect.
I’ve never been in a limo (that I can recall). I don’t really find them all that impressive. I usually just assume that it’s some self-important douche-bag inside, or at least, someone who wants to be a self-important douche-bag. meh.
stretched across the floor. the mess we all adore. passed out bodies, curled up toes. at a loss. fulfilled. happiness, confusion. stretched across the floor. smiles and chaos.
I want to ride in a limo with someone I love. I want to stick my head out the window on the top and scream and drink champagne. Limos remind me of lots of shows I watch – “How I met your mother”; “24” – people are aways riding in limos and either shooting people or having sex in them.
I step up into the limo with the driver outside the door. Is this what its like to be famous? I could get get used to this. But its all fake any way. That is where my dream always ends at. The limo.
Get in and drive away from the concrete cracks. Leave the dead children, deformed men with begging bowls, crying, heroin addicted teens, pregnant alcoholics. Enjoy paradise.
we found ourselves here, overextended, after a night of too many words. you’re the bucket queen, all champagne IV drips and diamond earrings. push me into the leather, and I’ll tell you about my day.
black escalade, new york, prom, stretch, high class, celebrities, white, champagne, poppin champagne, crunk jams.
windows are dark things. you don’t see that in churches. church windows are all about colour and light, and maybe that’s why people turn to religion. but car windows are things to hide behind. you can’t trust the dark, so bring your friends, there’s safety in numbers.
carry me please, with champagne and liveliness, no buzzing around except for in our bodies, we drink and we smile and we clap and we converse till we arrive at our location, destined to pull up just at the right time. we parade out and sip to our days
There was nothing more entertaining then a ride in the limo with Haruhi Fujioka. It was not like a normal ride, in which you would sit awkwardly and stare out a window. No, it was filled with the interesting conversation of the one who you might actually love. The idea of that made Kyouya Ootori almost shiver with anticipation for the time, after the Host Club in which he would sit and ride with her.
Limos are for the wealthy, but I’ve never been inside one. My family’s humility prevented us from such measures, and that was often mistaken for something… less than wealth, let’s say. When prom came around when I was a teenager, I found myself less enchanted than I had hoped when my father offered to drive me in his Honda.
The streets were dire, empty and cold. I sat on the street, fag in hand, the weight of the world on my shoulders. Bills for dads hospice, piling up on in my hallway. This was a desperate time. The limo pulled up, window slowly pulled down, today he would be my saviour.
The limo pulled up in front of Schewlt’s restaurant. Paparazzi milled around wanting to take the best shot possible as the occupant exited the vehicle.
“Excuse me! Mr. Carrigan, over here please!” a man shouted.
The tall man with the broad shoulders waved. His grin exhibited pearly whites as his mustache curled at the corners of his mouth.
At the Hollywood Bowl an unknown orchestra band was scheduled to play. That was the main reason was for the C.E.O’s visit; his nephew had bought him a front row seat.
The limo came p to the curb, we climbed in with exuberant cstasy. Prom night. Its finally prom night. I refused to allow rebecca blacks horrible rendition of prom night cross through my mind, but just by thinking that, i already did. Oh and here comes friday now too. Its friday, friday…ugh oh the joys of teen pop sensations.
It stretches, it carries the luxurious, the fortunate, the oblivious. What is in a limo that one cannot find in the streets of your mind. Your mind, as similar to the limo can carry all that the limo does, if one believes it can.
I imagine going out with a bunch of friends to enjoy a fun night. It also sparks memories of what old hollywood must have been like. Champagne, glamour and richness. I wish I could spend one day being old hollywood glam.
Every time I see a limo, I wonder who’s inside.
I want to know who they are, if they’re famous or not.
I want to know why they’re here right now, on this street.
I want to know where they’re going.
I want to know if, behind those almost illegally tinted windows, they’re staring back at me.
Limo.
I rode in a limo once. It was really creepy experience. It was Lauren’s 16th birthday. 10 of our closest friends packed into this limo, wearing formal dresses in the middle of December. The driver was this old man who was secretly taking pictures of us…. I kid you not.
He then asked if we wanted to go to “Love Circle”, a place where you could see all the lights in the city.
Hell to the no.
I haven’t ridden in a limo since.
A limo approached the curb. Delilah stopped short and caught her breath. Could it be him? Yes, she prayed, yes, let it be him. The limo’s door swung open and he stepped out and onto the sidewalk.
yellow lime. mmm, limon with some lays. mouth watering taste. i wish i could have this but too bad im stuck at glendale memorial :/ still, limon and a niiice food sounds good. limo, i wish i drove in one errday.
The kids were all hyped, prom was approaching with rapid steps. Some of the wealthier kids was bragging to any who would hear about the limo they were going to rent. Others from more suburban environments only talked about whether or not they were going.
Luxury. Mystery. I always want to know who’s inside and why.
He was in the limo the night of the crash. He had lost everything in the blink of an eye. He had know idea of what was to come and the road he would be taken down after her death. He loved his Elizabeth, and would do anything to find out who did this.
I’m in the very backseat;
Waiting for the sky to go bright.
Not thinking about anything but
Me and my new fame.
Not thinking about my past or
How that horrid man hurt me.
It’s just me and my fame.
I made it without him.
i love the thought of a limozine. Ive only been inside one limozine in my life and i was 5 years old. it was for my aunt and uncle’s wedding and i was extremely overwhelmed. I remember as a child, everyone thought this was the absolute best vehicle ever to be known to man kind.
whenever i see a limo drive by, i assume that inside, there is a ridiculously famous celebrity inside, sipping on champagne and laughing with a wonderfully fake laugh with all the friends whose names they can’t remember.
limo, long stretched limo with my family, all dressed in black, someone has died but the story of the day is my first trip in a limo.
i don’t want to be in a limo. they make me think of teenagers in bright dresses and goofy, over-sized tuxes.
i’m glad no one mentioned getting me a limo for my wedding.
My favorite wat to travel hate the horrible stretch ghetto nastiness versions like them classy and smaller silver cloud is a favorite John Porter was the limo queen always had a limo hookup grateful
a car which is big and it takes you places, you have a chauffeur. it is expensive, big. can be a SUV, or regular. long, white black,
As the morning sun began it’s slow ascent over the valley hills, it sped through the winding roads overlooking the city. Sleek and black, the trees said quick hellos across it’s deep dark shining paint as it carved it’s way to an uncertain destination. For very many years it’s occupants hid out in plain sight. They said all there was to say, argued all there was to argue, and frankly they were getting sick of the smell and the shedding hair of the Yeti that always insisted on sitting bitch, Hoffa especially.
a car something that people take to prom or very important parties. dressing up, famous people use them. ive been in them a few times before. theyre really fun. they come in black white and probably other colors. i really want to go to junior prom in one next year. theyre used for weddings. long cars with a ton of windows they are pretty good and aweomes
As the limo pulled to the curb in front of my home, I knew I was in for a treat. The long sleek row of doors began to swing open, as I craned my neck to see who it was. I had never had anyone visit in a new car, let alone a stretch limousine.