What's up it's pickles leave a message *beep*. Now that's what I call a kiki honey. I wanna flip that over and grill it up again. Okay. I am so glad you liked the songs I played you.
I left my heart in San Fransisco. It's at some motherfucking disco. The people there where dancin' on it. And that's including Ms. Matronic. . Hell if music is the victim then so am I.
When you're quiet, but your eyes. Are saying everything I need to know. I want to burrow like a sparrow. Dodging alley cats and whiskers. Why do we talk in whispers?.
Whoa oh ah hah ah ah ah huh. Whoa oh ah hah ah ah ah huh. Whoa oh ah hah ah ah ah huh. Whoa oh ah hah ah ah ah huh. . Monkey baby why you lookin' at me?.
I love the tone that's in your laugh. gasping for an extra breath. Waiting for the time to pass. I believe in days ahead. Don't spend another night alone.
Millennium theater. Get out there and buy that water and gas. Ramadan, orange alert. Everybody put on your gas mask. First leak it out about the president.
you wandered in. to the forest. followin. that shiny red ball. and by the time. you looked up. you were lost. but that's not all. you confused your journey.
in order to say thank you to you. i must do it intentionally. but tonight with every breath. i can feel my death. as sure as i can feel my knees. . you are my modulation.
Most of the time I'm clear focused all around. Most of the time I can keep both feet on the ground. I can follow the path, I can read the sign. I can stay right with it, and the road unwinds.
When I was four years old, they tried to test my I.Q.. They showed me a picture of 3 oranges and a pear. They said, "Which one is different? It does not belong".
My name is Lisa Kalvelage, I was born in Nuremberg. And when the trials were held there nineteen years ago. It seemed to me ridiculous to hold a nation all to blame.
I'm gonna turn and walk away. You can wait 'til I am far along. Then run and come and catch my arm. And say you'd die if I were gone. . I want to hear you call my name.
My breast is cradled. In the curve of my guitar. I'm breaking strings. And other things. Playing hard. No I'm not on the rag. But I'm not on the run. I am matching the big boys.
I'm holding here a book. Notable, but not the greatest. Stolen for me by the latest in a long line of thieves. And I'm just about to drop it down that man hole of memories.
I'll be the right hand. You'll be the left hand. You and me we make. A mariachi band. . Standing on the corner. Waiting for the light. When you're around I.
The answer came. Like a shot in the back. While you were running from your lesson. Which might explain. Why years later all you could remember. Was the terror of the question.
I know that I want you. I know that I need you. But I can't pretend that. This'll make it right. . You whisper your name. But I can't hear you. Don't leave me behind.
My life's minds plagued by lyssophobia. In a cage solitude locks me in. As the dark blackened walls close in on me. Dementia strikes, there's no turning back.
We smothered in life. Listen, listen, listen. The written word will devour you. And burn your mind. I¹m burning your mind. I am entering your soul. My promise to love and caress you.
We smothered in life. Listen, listen, listen. The written word will devour you. And burn your mind. I¹m burning your mind. I am entering your soul. My promise to love and caress you.