Glad another bad thing came upon me. All is good. It brought about a change. Now I can see. Guess I got a little too comfortable. Catastrophe saved me from being one of them: The walking dead.
Ran out of words to describe this so I'll use colour. I'll paint beyond the lines, a lovely waste of time. And I'm grateful to be dirt-poor. No need for a lock on my door. I've nothing left to steal... Nothing real.
Father always said "When one door closes another one is sure to open." And "god only gives you what he knows you can take." As true as they are, I'm so sick of the cliches.
So I made all the phone calls, I filed all the papers. I'm tired! I don't wanna go back! Tired of feelin' so trapped. Well, I'm well-educated and bored out of mind, irresponsible, loving, and kind, talented, lazy, and unmotivated, crazy, unstable, and self-medicated.
I take my fate with a cup of black coffee and a piece of chocolate cake. Throwing myself to the wolves at my door, I do it in style. I've done it before. I always go out with a smile on my face.
Listening to the yuppies on the evening commute is depressing. Well, their lives, they seem to pivot on yoga and low-fat dressing. I have holes in my socks and I don't own a watch that's ticking. My apartment is cold and all the faucets are dripping. This bump of fate is my Cracker Jack prize, neatly-centered on my silver plate. Not taking orders. I'm sleeping late.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
