His fingers are so cold. He's been rubbing them slippery-fast together. I can tell his skin burned when the friction was the heat he made, but it's the flesh underneath that steals his heart and mine. I jump away from him and I can tell it breaks his heart.
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I will make you cry tears of blood. Get ready to be depressed.
Dance in the Full Moon
O, the Frailty of Memory
Pride Goeth Before a Fall
Hindsight
My Serial Mistakes
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Slap a label on my back and market me to the younger generation. I'll sell like hotcakes; they love seeing an old man make a fool of him...
Sheeple
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