Molotov Parade
This is what it has come down to....catatonic winter in Seattle...New Years is dead......
So this is it. Another narcissistic forum for all the burnt out Presidents and divas of the Bill Gates era. Complete with strategic punchlines in a eulogy full of infected clocks. Roughly eight hours ago I took Thom Yorke's advice, but then I got an advance check and decided to join the matrix. And they thought Gary Beusy was the one. He and that rat bastard Keannu Reeves should remake Starsky and Hutch. Only this time the sportscar would be a hearse. And their Rigor Mortis enduced bodies would be in the back of it. Don't spoil the surprise for our fellow Americans. They will start a riot and tear down every amusement park in the country if you do.
Cocanut slurpies cover the ground in Seattle. And some of these fuckers still don't know the basic fundementals of a steering wheel. No amount of mochas in the world will stop your soul from being seduced by frostbite. Especially if a priest hasn't diddled you at some point. Who am I to judge? Most people would like to get some heat in this nuclear winter. But I say keep both hands on the steering wheel. Unless of course you have a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other.
The funeral for New Years is today. Anyone who would like to attend please a give a donation of resolutions that will never be realized in the first place. What the fuck do you need them for? Put them in the casket and sing "Our Love Has Died" by The Ohio Players over and over until you pass out and forget where you are when you wake up. It's what the Pope wants. And by God we should listen to that senile bastard shouldn't we?
The Grandfunk Railroad Derailment...Interpol...Exchanges and Returns (sarcasm wins)......
Waste more ambition on lost causes and dragging arguements that invite a hung jury to the table. Warm feelings that sleep in the barbwired heart have smoked it's...
Molotov Parade
This is what it has come down to....catatonic winter in Seattle...New Years is dead......
So this is it. Another narcissistic forum for all the burnt out Presidents and divas of the Bill Gates era. Complete with strategic punchlines in a eulogy full of infected clocks. Roughly eight hours ago I took Thom Yorke's advice, but then I got an advance check and decided to join the matrix. And they thought Gary Beusy was the one. He and that rat bastard Keannu Reeves should remake Starsky and Hutch. Only this time the sportscar would be a hearse. And their Rigor Mortis enduced bodies would be in the back of it. Don't spoil the surprise for our fellow Americans. They will start a riot and tear down every amusement park in the country if you do.
Cocanut slurpies cover the ground in Seattle. And some of these fuckers still don't know the basic fundementals of a steering wheel. No amount of mochas in the world will stop your soul from being seduced by frostbite. Especially if a priest hasn't diddled you at some point. Who am I to judge? Most people would like to get some heat in this nuclear winter. But I say keep both hands on the steering wheel. Unless of course you have a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other.
The funeral for New Years is today. Anyone who would like to attend please a give a donation of resolutions that will never be realized in the first place. What the fuck do you need them for? Put them in the casket and sing "Our Love Has Died" by The Ohio Players over and over until you pass out and forget where you are when you wake up. It's what the Pope wants. And by God we should listen to that senile bastard shouldn't we?
The Grandfunk Railroad Derailment...Interpol...Exchanges and Returns (sarcasm wins)......
Waste more ambition on lost causes and dragging arguements that invite a hung jury to the table. Warm feelings that sleep in the barbwired heart have smoked it's last cigarette and are waiting for members of the NRA to do their job. Thank God. It's about time. Liar by accident really. Honest by default. Play with little rusty oxes that run down (not across) the inner arm. Bathtub full of happy songs. Fuck, this is utterly pathetic. And to think people I know that I only keep surface conversation with may read this. But my fellow Americans, people will not read again. The modem cable will be their ambilical cord. Gambling will renew the economy. Chemicals make the most stubborn skies bleed blue hues. Journey through the mind of a selfish man who craves destructive behavior. Self or otherwise. Chaotic confusion seems to make a comfort zone among realists. Oh the guilt.
It's been a year and I still can't stop listening to the fucking Interpol album. Joy Division fans don't like me right now. Sorry, it's still a good album.
Buy gold toilets and expensive money clips. We can all partake in the eventful pastime of decadence. Whether it's coke or smack or politics, we can all agree that things are looking better can't we? Let's have a parade of hope make it's way through the gutters and back allies of the disillusioned soul. Fuck, the shit that comes out my mouth sometimes. I am destined to be some kind a loser cult leader. Not even one that has some kind of legacy to it. Not even fifteen minutes. Fifteen seconds maybe. But it's true, the Elephants and Donkeys will overrun the cities and rural communities, spreading less taxes and pre-determined wars. Pre-determined election votes and an provide a nice warm stars and stripes quilt for all the little people. Because the 1%will have everything else. Forget about communication. What is that? Spend more. Fuck more. Nurture less and hope everything gets better through cheap music. Let's make businesses the new churches and make schools the new abandoned buildings. I hope I live long enough to see Paul Mooney as President with David Cross as his Vice President. I want it to happen more than I want Linkin Park to be signed to Def Jam and be considered the new form of hip-hop music. As I said before buy the gold toilets so we can speed the process up and flush this place down. The public restrooms are not reliable enough.....
But I will still vote for Paul Mooney and David Cross as President and Vice President.
This is what it has come down to....catatonic winter in Seattle...New Years is dead......
So this is it. Another narcissistic forum for all the burnt out Presidents and divas of the Bill Gates era. Complete with strategic punchlines in a eulogy full of infected clocks. Roughly eight hours ago I took Thom Yorke's advice, but then I got an advance check and decided to join the matrix. And they thought Gary Beusy was the one. He and that rat bastard Keannu Reeves should remake Starsky and Hutch. Only this time the sportscar would be a hearse. And their Rigor Mortis enduced bodies would be in the back of it. Don't spoil the surprise for our fellow Americans. They will start a riot and tear down every amusement park in the country if you do.
Cocanut slurpies cover the ground in Seattle. And some of these fuckers still don't know the basic fundementals of a steering wheel. No amount of mochas in the world will stop your soul from being seduced by frostbite. Especially if a priest hasn't diddled you at some point. Who am I to judge? Most people would like to get some heat in this nuclear winter. But I say keep both hands on the steering wheel. Unless of course you have a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other.
The funeral for New Years is today. Anyone who would like to attend please a give a donation of resolutions that will never be realized in the first place. What the fuck do you need them for? Put them in the casket and sing "Our Love Has Died" by The Ohio Players over and over until you pass out and forget where you are when you wake up. It's what the Pope wants. And by God we should listen to that senile bastard shouldn't we?
The Grandfunk Railroad Derailment...Interpol...Exchanges and Returns (sarcasm wins)......
Waste more ambition on lost causes and dragging arguements that invite a hung jury to the table. Warm feelings that sleep in the barbwired heart have smoked it's...