There's no point to any of this. It's all just a... a random lottery of meaningless tragedy and a series of near escapes.
So I take pleasure in the details. You know... a Quarter-Pounder with cheese,
those are good, the sky about ten minutes before it starts to rain,
the moment where your laughter become a cackle...
and I, I sit back and I smoke my Camel Straights and I ride my own melt.
No comments:
Post a Comment