a portion of devotion on sale to the stale-skinned, rummage-happy troop. got my bells on: it my ears ringing and peers watching. wishing i'd stop judging with my mouth open and hands on the switch, so when they the earth, who's ass will your head end up in? it's most likely you'll never get the perfect tip or learn to hints. i want a new 'cause my books are getting old, and i'd watch the "news and advertisements" and find a new way to my life
(guaranteed of course, the names we trust have, and always be, the only answer). girls like to hold hands; i had my squeezed out once or twice, so call it even...and well-balanced, like a crock of shit or a hell of a life on a mess to the upscale, they sniff dreams off fingernails and rate life on a of personal gain. mapping out the universe: a wife and kids no name, and a big house atop a that blocks out the sun for those who can't afford it. throw crumbs to the starving idealists. do they not bleed the same? are they not
we got bigger now, and all my are carefully hidden on crumpled paper at my feet. for attention when the demon barely blinks out of this life. now i'm on the north shore, laughing at my dot com buddies who got off, who references anyway? i've working for god in all the wrong social circles.
i could have been a programmer, but much i still am: not a man or a teacher, just a in denial with to give then they could possibly take. when nothing left to disagree with, i'll off the face of the planet and give mtv-land back to its owners...you can have it.
there's a replica of comfort and a false of stability. the difference between a blow-up doll floating in a with slit wrists and a lost only calling to borrow money. all these days are you, there are floors to slip and break your on and bottles of vodka you see through. parasite to parasite, what's eating me is you.
the absolute hardest thing about here is how you wish you could the way it drags. now they got drugs and computers to do for you they can be you, and replace you, and convince you they love you. never meant to anything so innocent that you can't help but hope it gets crossing in traffic.
i promised myself i wouldn't anything on this song, but you me no choice 'cause i can't complain, and believe i'm still waiting for people, for people who overextend by saying, "hello," i greediness and how loneliness will drive entire blocks to pigpile on sets. all the clap-on distractions and inspirations are the reason i can barely a one-sided conversation, or sit still knees shaking. i pull the hair out of my head and wait for to fill the room, but all i get is a receding hairline and shit-eating grin.
it's sad to anyone...