The pen writes, scribbles, jibes; e'er a painstaking task of gilded lies. It consumes the past and regurgitates it silver-plated for the future, but can only ever be read in the present. What an odd kind of time machine. Singing pen's would rather hum.
///
i have a song i like, its called "fuck him twice a week"
"Never put him down
Think before you speak
Give him what he truly wants
Eat good food.
Never put him down
Think before you speak
give him what he truly wants
let him chase you.
Put your makeup on
don't disturb his sleep
flirt, play
fuck him twice a week
/robot breakdown/
LOL
but yeah, its a good song. form micromuzak.
///
i got things to do today. try not to die whilst i'm away, ok? You've all done a good enough job thus far it'd be a shame to come back and find tombstones. Well, yours anyways. I can think of some tombstones i wouldn't mind seeing.
Like a pepperoni one...
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