What was it like to see the face of your own stability suddenly look away leaving you with the dead and hopeless? Under a dead Ohio sky, defending his light, and wondering... Shut up and Buy my new record Send more money Fuck you, buddy. Eleven is standing still, waiting for me to free him by coming home. It took so long to realize that you hold the light that's been leading me back home. Which I attempt to reassemble to see just who I might have been.
They say there's plenty of fish in the sea, but for whatever reason, the sea of dating apps appears to be lacking plenty.
With the meteoric rise and virality of apps like Tinder, Grindr, and the ever-popular Ok Cupid, it would appear the pool of smartphone dating is a small one. The pool of prospective dates and bed buddies is larger than a five-block radius. You want to casually drop a line (and a wink) to a Facebook "friend"?
Why then are you so surprised to hear your own eulogy? Before you point the finger you should know that I'm the man, and if I'm the man, then you're the man, and he's the man as well so you can point that fuckin' finger up your ass.
You've claimed all this time that you would die for me. I wanna feel the metamorphosis and cleansing I've endured within my shadow. Well now I've got some advice for you, little buddy. Rest your trigger on my finger, bang my head upon the fault line.
Fret for your figure and Fret for your latte and Fret for your hairpiece and Fret for your lawsuit and Fret for your prozac and Fret for your pilot and Fret for your contract and Fret for your car.