Song of the Day

There's something in the way you people smell, like you've got no soul at all.

Is your schedule sufficient tonight, you toad?  Hope another bar until the rooster crows.

This song belongs to you and all your crew.  This curse will sting the worse as it shall mark you.

I'd rather spend an evening giving birth than see how your eyes are glued on everyone but the person you're talking to.  And trapped between babushkas on a plan is a fraction of how lame it is to watch you pump the poison through your veins.

You'd probably think this means I'd give up on you.  The saddest part is this is why I come.  To watch and pray that I'm mistaken and pray I'm not the only one.  Try not to care about this, I know that this is hopeless.  No one notices it.  Not losing sleep over this, you people are unredeemable, indescribable, all but evil.