songs....
Day after day Our love turns gray Like the skin on a dying man and night after night, We pretend it's all right, But I have grown older, And you have grown colder And nothing is very much fun, anymore.
And I can feel,
One of all my turns coming on.
I feel, Cold as a razor blade, Tight as a tourniquet, Dry as...
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this is a generic message to all of the people on my friends list. I have reached the point where I must accept the slackass nature of myself and accept that I will never respond to each person who told me happy birthday individually. so...this is like a memo.
if you told me happy birthday; thank you. IRL, no one did outside of family...so y'all just rocked my socks.
if you didn't tell me happy birthday...well. fuck off.
xoxox
wil