Mar 24, 2010


I can't compromise with the fact that the kids are not the same anymore. The kids are not what they used to be. A rebellion left to decay. No hopeless dreamers, no fuckers sleeping under bridge.
Now outcasts hide their second hand youth behind second head suits and tie their compromise round their neck as a collar.
We are shoplifting and we are 21 like our heroes did until the last of their days. So divine and such hopelessness disapproved and misclassified like broken empty bottles on the floor of the Town Hall. No Marilyn Monroe's where praised for this fact and no swans were slaughtered for this nuclear experiment. You get a prize out of this; a microwave love reheated and shallow as your heart is. No painfull lovers just the abandonment blues. My haircut was ruined from the wind of change, from the nervous modern citizens and the politicians that paid fortunes to have our names first act on Google. I got a couple of guns my father left me and a hidden camera on a third class hotel that tapes me fuck retired whores. You can know experience the crash of libido messing with vains and pumps and livers. My 15 seconds of fame is all the hopes i'm left with. My mother just snored when she understood i was the one on the evening news.

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