The B-songs You’re Boppin’

Instead of adding to the drunk texting… Instead, this…

I bring outdoor sweat indoors not to be hidden in a cupboard.

That’s real man smell. You can’t ignore. I’ve got real man thoughts that I mostly keep to myself which most no one can handle. It’s all their fault. Not mine at all.

Switch the subject fast, I notice a new pair of shoes and Oh My God I hate to say this but I’m already about to say it so here goes… Nothing, I’ve got nothing to say about anything but I’m gonna put a faker in your ear. Until the award truck comes through, I’m gonna keep milkin’ you until I get chocolate milk. First of all I would like to thank gawd, for putting me in the mix, feels like a blender, a binder, the wringer, the bitch of life, a binger, pitch black lighting in here, another Sabbath cover, inspiration through a bendy straw. Fantastic shit happens.

What ya really need to do is call me. Draw the line at calling me. Meet me in the desert, I’m blending in with the sky gods because in New York they’re doing some dumb shit and if you got California on the other end of the string, you need to cut the string: I got nothin for ya, nothing more, this sad perpetuation. Not a second more, not a spec of me has any tolerance in reserve but how you so chill composed lax coming off like that then? Please, enlighten us.

Broken instruments play broken songs, broken songs for broken backs, broken back songs to cheer up your mother.

Old wive’s wise tales. One mistake in heaven is ten equivalent on the shore so take a good look at what you already have. Most Americans are helpless to admit. You’re already so beyond what so many have claimed to accomplish.

little pinky
pink for a reason

Many things pink make a ball spin. You can’t drive me to drink but you can buy me a drink. Toto Lotto, a lot of Motto, a lot of nothing, a lotta woman, Lolita misfire…

ca-crunchy B-listing

bee sting

Maybe I’m ready for more, maybe I’m ready for more than the moral of the story. Second I’d like to thank the son of god for all the posers I encounter of on a daily basis and the silly things they occupy themselves with are at times a great source of anger and yet spawn cacophonies of laughter spill the barrel of laughs I’m training young clowns with following me cuz it’s getting easier and easier to follow me these days. It just gels. I see what you mean.

young clowns in training
old clowns covered in B-stings

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