not exactly
funny, my father was just speaking to me about cadaverine and putrescine. not only are they stinky, but toxic, too. bad t-rex. bad baaad t-rex. weren't you paying attention in organic chemistry?
that for sure will get you locked up.
but we're all stuck, one way or another.
there's no way out.
except in. pull a hole in one past the event horizon and click your heels all the way through to the next burrow down underhill.
where the matchstick girl sings for the music halls in paris and is about to get caught up in a masquerade and either take a left turn in albuquerque towards the burnt out husks of wasted days or a right turn dragging her deep underground to the catacombs and an unfortunate series of betrayals.
whose music box is it anyway? i thought it was playing "welcome to the jungle" when i heard it. funny, i was out there in paradise city and i wanted to move back in. though i didn't understand a third of the routes to self destruction... really, they're everywhere- you don't need a chainsawed carbon sink full of endangered endemic species to get your rollercoaster to hell on. what was that, a bat? flying straight up and the breeze blew by my hair ...or was it an owl? (have another cigarette or i can't see.)
i have 'til thirteen o'clock. tell me when the clock strikes fifteen and i'll get started.
looking for the little lady in the crooked cradle painted with violets and licorice. *clap your hands*
or we'll be dead and then we'll have to sing our own funeral by ourselves and what would the walrus say?
i don't want to know, he was always a greedy bastard anyway.
until the next yesterday.
it's been a trip.
xposted of course
that for sure will get you locked up.
but we're all stuck, one way or another.
there's no way out.
except in. pull a hole in one past the event horizon and click your heels all the way through to the next burrow down underhill.
where the matchstick girl sings for the music halls in paris and is about to get caught up in a masquerade and either take a left turn in albuquerque towards the burnt out husks of wasted days or a right turn dragging her deep underground to the catacombs and an unfortunate series of betrayals.
whose music box is it anyway? i thought it was playing "welcome to the jungle" when i heard it. funny, i was out there in paradise city and i wanted to move back in. though i didn't understand a third of the routes to self destruction... really, they're everywhere- you don't need a chainsawed carbon sink full of endangered endemic species to get your rollercoaster to hell on. what was that, a bat? flying straight up and the breeze blew by my hair ...or was it an owl? (have another cigarette or i can't see.)
i have 'til thirteen o'clock. tell me when the clock strikes fifteen and i'll get started.
looking for the little lady in the crooked cradle painted with violets and licorice. *clap your hands*
or we'll be dead and then we'll have to sing our own funeral by ourselves and what would the walrus say?
i don't want to know, he was always a greedy bastard anyway.
until the next yesterday.
it's been a trip.
xposted of course