baaah. razdrazd i am. eating broccoli, drinking gin, tonic and old chai, spending days and waiting, o brothers. all i have seem like landing me down from what i want to be. and i tolchok or fist the air anyway, thastrav nigde.
i no longer hear the music from under my table, cuz my s.b. is new and it's sad too. chasee, or time i need, indeed. let's not govoreet any longer. take heed of what you are, droogie.