Headphones Against The World

Leaders skilled or not, blasting batteries die in a phone booth! O fuck! Again. Old friends call after years. The whirl wind effect of your life in transition. Movement anywhere with anything and with whatever. Secret code to see if you pass and still with to much ass and I'm the prick. Constant connection with natures dark vine and bats at night. If sorcery worked I would be flying High right now after my Bowie cover but the dents in my pitch bent it out in a distorted shape, but for a spaceship? Come on! Tits! Idiots! Stoned and over cast, I have nothing and I'm a lousy stripper as the Sky stood and waited with azurescens preparing to land. I've already got it from the desert though (!?) but without the crystal magic pouch of seeds but the flying saucers shall be my companions sometime soon and the research in it, there has to be science in it or its useless than a pith of a poem O! Wait until relic time shitheads! Fuck brains! and Turnip Ass Fucking a big ugly machine. And I only advance you to a quality magician or nature faun, entangle the dance up in the air with the other gusts while the moon is pouncing I send you a chosen sick verb to hum in your secret revolution and then the might of a arctic rose.

Sassy Sarah