Thursday, October 02, 2008


faceless crowded nothing nowhere
making sense played on accordian
trumpets all go deaf with pleasure
i saw the blue balled matchstick maker
im here so long its feeding time
im sleeping through my dreams to find it
drowning in succession with my favorite piece of furniture

when you die im taking all your sounds
make an album of the resturant we burn in homage to the starving artists working in the back
thesres seagul shit outsite the penthouse at least thats what she said to me the grass is dying for a glass of empathetic proticol
recite the inverse telegram scream over the damn house of snooze band
history repeats another mistake when she finds you hollowed out

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