Saturday, April 12, 2003

fingerprints leave streaks on the windows right next to the tounge marks.a yellowed piece of paper in the cranial ash tray.there was a time when the words that tattooed the pulp would inspire and infest.those days have slipped away with the hopes and dreams of a new generation.we only have wounds that we must ignore and starvation we must let pass by.supress and opress.write off and shift blame.you'll wake up when you're being scraped from the pavement.

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