hounds to unleash mastications and puke my fucken soul to hell.
What I am learning is the world laughs through it's ass everyday,
then just lies double-time when shit goes down.
A lier is a psycopath- someone who paints gray areas between black and
So I'm here with two spliffs, and two acid pearls in my pocket; nasty
gels, according to Taylor, like your mind would projectile-exit your
nose if you took one.
Anyways, I ain't that decisive in life, not with all this grief on
board, not with my anger evaporated. It fucken slays me.
My face goes Porked Monkey. It's the face for when life around you
travels in fucken dog years, but you stay frozen still.
Sent from my iPhone