my brother ed is probably seven. he barrels down the hallway into the living room where my sister and i are watching television on the couch; he launches into the air and lands dramatically, sinking his plastic teenage mutant ninja turtles scimitar into a floor cushion. "TERRIBLE LIE!" he howls. it is my fault: i have given him a case of the nine
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my FAVORITE song on pretty hate machine is sin. oh. my. god. "STALE INCENSE, OLD SWEAT, AND LIES! LIES! LIES!" i won't claim that made any sense even when i was 14, but it sure was fun to shout. i am also fond of the one where the devil wants to fuck him in the back of his car. when drunk i am prone to singing either one, unfortunately my friends are mostly music snobs and simply think of NIN as "bad" instead of "sometimes good, but mostly LOLtastic", so i just get a lot of fishy-eyed stares instead of the intended mass karaoke effect.
i am so sad that he is old and fat now. it's all wrong.
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LAY MY HANDS ON HEAVEN AND THE SUNNNN AND THE MOOOONNNN AND THE STARS
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2. I have always been, & continue to be, such a NIN fan. Yes, I am a paid Spiral member.
That is all.
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Uhm, yeah, that's what I tell myself because if I stop to pay attention to the words in 'Terrible Lie' it's really embarassing.
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Oh man. 1993 I had the worst haircut in the world. I looked like an afghan hound wearing thick reading spectacles and I had this horrible grungy green jacket I wore everywhere, and I wrote bad poems with titles like 'Chalkboard Messiah..'.
uhm.
some things haven't changed that much, I guess.
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there are a few notable exception, sam cooke's a change is gonna come is a perfect little poem only enhanced by a great singer, great music, and shocking context.
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jupiter knocked up a spaghetti bolognese
but there was no parmesan
and i said, i'm made of cheese
why don't you just grate off a bit of me head
and they did
and it tasted of baby sick
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