You win a while, and then it’s done - Your little winning streak.

Fare thee well my nightingale, I lived but to be near you. Thow you are singing somewhere still I can no longer hear you.

You have to keep cracking yourself open or you become a parody of yourself.

Ah, grief makes us precise!

And clenching your fist for the ones like us Who are oppressed by the figures of beauty.

... i didn't fall in love of course it's never up to you but she was walking back and forth and i was passing through

i would like to remind the management that the drinks are watered and the hat-check girl has syphilis and the band is composed of former ss monsters However since it is new year's eve and i have lip cancer i will place my paper hat on my concussion and dance