my possibilities look slim.
people say they want me. but they dont want me want me.
they want the idea of me.
and to be honest im pretty sure i feel the same exact way.
xbi poisoned me pretty good the other day. they had a russian agent straddle me and gave me something to eat.
strangely this wasnt the first time i had found myself in this situation, so i just went for it, cuz they were gonna put it in something else anyways.
drank water all night, watched the sun rise, played dj as they poisoned themselves on my dare.
penthouse, west hollywood, perfect air, perfect sky. afterwards they said why arent you afraid to die.
i said cuz after you die, you go to heaven and the replacements are playing and gwar
and motorhead, and rancid, and blink and dinosaur, and blondie for some reason and x
and a few days before that the cubs are playing a day game and the next day the bears kick off their season.
they said but you dont have a job.
and i said my job is being the dj for this death slide. here comes some lana del rey.
and they laid back in the outdoor leather couch and said