I don't believe any of it. I really don't want to. I mean is there something to make out of it. Believe in cards, witches or goblins. And what is that apologetic explanation of that four letter word (not fuck) love.
Is there anything to it? Anything, or everything. Does it mean I go get laid, or does it mean, a drink in the old club speaking like "hey, you know what". Feeling better, sucking a cherry -- spitting the seed.
Chaos. Dragon flies, and an old friend who talks to much. Why should I write sense to you, when you don't to me. Is it plain, simple and nicely obscure. Or are we children now with a garden of garbage with an overeaten serpent.
Help! The ship sinks tonight. There's no conformity, not even in dreams. Mystery, Style...spoken words. The truck runs over orphans on midnight.
Blissfully beatnik. Rubbish. Dr Filth is sleeping. I'm in the madhouse, next to the whorehouse, at least they get to sleep.
Remorse and roses, kisses and wishes.