You remember the night that you left me, you put me in my place. Got you in a stranglehold now baby, gonna crush your face.
I was a walking, talking hunk of human poop.
Green Day is politically brain-dead but I love the little monkeys.
I have self-actualized. Pardon me whilst I adjust my glowing halo.
We hunt and fish or we'll go nuts dealing with the criminal behavior of our elected officials.
There is no finer sonic-producing weapon for a guitar slayer than a hand crafter Gibson masterpiece.