Seminal breathing exercise as you sext your ex ti tential ex perforated lab partner. Yeah I know Ive been way too angry this time around...so lets cut this shit with some load of shit words I thought...and there you have it. How about I start using the desperate cry for help space here?
Ever wonder why you dont just break down and cry while slashing your wrist listening to the first six am album....also wondering during your suicide how all the acclaim went over to Nikki Six.....yeah all you did was play the bass? Again? Really? Did you write the words? Or did the guns part of guns and roses you hired on do all that too....I mean the album was pretty good, seriously...but share the lime light man who do you think you are mountain dew?
You ever think about something and say to yourself....or not in most cases....fuck it why not? Who will care/know/remember?
Ok. So this isnt much of a statement as much so as it to ask if you remember Justine Bateman...and was she hot? Or did she have like a lazy eye? Saggy tits, you know the great pretender ones that look perky and pointy like Madonna but then they fall down and hit you harder than a George Foreman heart attack?
I would like to dedicate this space.....a MySpace if you will...sue me bitches. To those I have left behind. Oh and in doing so that no longer exist in this world of mine or to any degree abjectly influence the world or this universe since I being the wisest man today.....don't give a fuck about the how what when or the were or even the wear for these no doubt cross dressing mimes in grandmas underwear.
Your Saint For Suicide as seen on your T.V.