Bothers don't knock my to my knees, only a uppercut can fuck my day up! Foul play is defined by the governments control, a book of laws created to contain our mortal affliction; sex, drugs, and new age music are the scapegoat this time. Perhaps we should relocate our focus to the freedoms being robbed from right under all of our snoots. Uncle Sam has lost his taste for justice, and understanding; seems now he only loops around the country searching for fresh American flesh.
Hopeless is the only word I can use to explain my living conditions; utterly depressed friends waiting on a cold tile floor for death to hurry and take them. Simply riding this lie called life, no simile, nor metaphor to abstractly rhyme the words the Gods of given talents handed down; I live on nothing more than alliteration, and a breakfast bowl of hyper bowl!
Jay lives so stressed out.
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