Don't know how to build stable homes, making them bones. Abilify is inside of me and the corporate jihad first weeks turn out to be pretty cool (CSS, XSLT and Perl) but i doesn't pays off as much as expected. Anyhow, living with my parents, it'm Carter likewise on the salary. Stunts will be performed on the outside. I got news from an old victim through a master. Tonight can't I sleep.
Friday work, no good, no bueno, decoy. I've got a blog somewhere. Faster than me. Obvious. No pasaran.
Long time no write.
So long Solian. I get hard kicks on channel twenty one. The riots and the code Jihad kept me busy. I'll trace you from my mandriva shuttle, listening to my random shuffle. The right mood and attitude, they are switching numbers and the pragma decays. Ask your father about the torrents.
Sometimes i feel like i don't know, later i hope i'd rather get caught. The season has changed but it didn't hurt me. I mean you harm but my brothers have the weapons. One too many nights and a billion bytes behind. Who has eaten all the slimfasts ? In the attic was i alone ? Wasted on weed, lost in static, blinded by the blank lights, soaked down by flu, i should have reached out for us.
I'll shine your path, cook you transports; I'll be just another prophet slave. Tuck you in. Puananis in the crowd, crows and angels. Mo' dust. Dot sa contacts but they are looking for relief or porn. I can relate to my nefew's lust for violence. It feels brown tonight.
I require more depth from me. Collateral is surface.
I saw Jesus and Queens on stage under the names of Devendra B and Coco Rosie. Divan du monde, aka couch of the world. Too much ham. I don't forgive sinners but I'll forget to suck their wifes. He'll never strike that accurate. I cheated and i won. Saïd Cantona knows the books of revelations by the index. I let the keyboard do the talking.
You can call me an officer. I wear a different dress. In the corner, in the attic, in transports, always the same. Inject, inspect, pay no respect. I was on speed and she had a baby and beautiful hair. This is how we do it, Place de Clichy style.
Carter Nixon, bangs the door of the bogs, gave me a kiss. I grabbed the signal off the wire, unplugged. This is so much more hardcore than the kernell i expected. Redemption came on the hidden train tracks, when i wished i could love him; won't you give me a porn break. Koreans are such nice chicks. We never were that close, the bus 80 model, she smiled at me yesterday. I feel a lot closer to the end. Pay no respect but have mercy on me.
The lights came on in the middle of the night. Twice. She was blond this time around, still from the Opera. Funky Skunk. Blessings and redemptions. The DOM grows on me, I'll end up loving javascript but there's no XPath. This guy turns Doc() into variable, he must be bold, i lust for his brains. Marja came in the middle of the night and she was on crack despite her religion. We have this commitment to the Jihad and i'm on the hard line. J.C. used to walk the line and i thought it was cocaine.
I felt for sugar kane, candy pop. The ocean is hers. There's nothing legal out there. I loved her and masturbate after her before any word. I smoke too much but it comes free with the metal gear i import. Upgradded Scott to higher ram. This is december.
I tried to explain but not to justify. She ask me for lunch. I prefer programming. I feel so fake. Somebody cares but i don't get what i want. I'd rather sleep blank but i wake up in front of a computer waiting for me to hit the keyboard. Who's gonna ride my sad donkey and who's gonna cry on my grave ? I'm getting old faster than i am growing sad. If i wanted to loose weight, i'd get rid of the useless and cut my dick. Chicken supernova. I'll have time later this week and i'll invest that in the code Jihad. No more shall we not.
They all have egos. They talk about themselves so often i don't know what to do. I'd rather write about myself and let it be on demand. My mother was less talkative about herself before her operation. Maria barely talks about her. Lyla is in an ego trip. I should get back to playing lego.
Blinded was I. I wanted to ask her out but felt this sole idea would be an insult to her magic karma. Marie lives in a fobidden world to us, the underclass code mujaidhins. A machine took yet another picture of me and yet do i look much older. My number has been called.
She won't love me anyway. The fact is, there are other possibles but the prophet only has one shrine. A programming muslim must keep away for this sofisticated and educated social appartus. The proletarians on crack in situ. We carry the weight of the sins of the occidental world and yet have we to encounter signs, get ammo or a tragic path to the final transport. Who's gonna ride the golden ladder ? Who's gonna mourn our heroes ? Libraries gave us power, then work came and gave us powder. The computers are the lethal means of this new jihad. Rest in peace, i'll be dead just before the Time comes.
