as i fingered the scales on my skin, i twisted like stifled and stymied victorian women.
now i dine with dave on dead flies and crickets.
harvesting souls is, i suppose, an honest living.
they saw me assemble from the ether and said i could double my luck,
if only i was to man up and murder my identical twin brother.
the treadmills kept me too tired to mither you,
so you best suggest which ghetto that i ought to go to.
so you best suggest which ghetto that i ought to go to.
what will you do for our wounded heroes?
what will you do for our wounded heroes?
the counties were cut into bite size chunks for ease of top down management.
what will you do for our wounded heroes?
what will you do for our wounded heroes?
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