Wednesday, February 25, 2009
don't fire truck me, son. i been all through that bloodstream and it's built like bricks. no amount of fisticuffs is going to paint that place proper, so just set back and stir yourself a bit. the swirls, they come and they leave, it's just nail polish on a pretty girl's toes. what i need to know is how you can just couch it? i'm tearing up roses over here. it's a regular candy apple parade. come on now and drop that curtain down, we're all just tossing rubies anyway, and the front and the back of it is a rather bleak blend of the good stuff gone bad, so don't go all volcano on me. i'll need you on this before the end. we'll get this thing fixed and the maple leaves'll glisten like cherries and that red jello sunset'll tear down the sky at least one more time, so we might as well shoot these shotgun shells while we got 'em. you never know which robin song will be your last.