a lone voice crying in the wilderness:
make the straight way
It's time to celebrate, to come out and play รข€“
on leaving school immersed in philanthropic notions (of a kind
if every child chased dreams of societal reorganization in place
i harbour secret imaginings of social masochism and retribution. with
three / four decades bored... oh me oh my i
it's all very well, knowing how to write and understanding
it's tragic to concede geothermals, to take the deus from
it's just a song, just another generic mid-paced foot-tapper, just
oh my god i think i'm cuba, or possibly tanzania.
well you can tell by the way i move my
hey! little mohammed, where's your riot gear? did you forget
why call it an artform? it's lacquered kareoke with a
if i can't feel (on a given day) the way
it starts with a call, a call from his mother.
sophia
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