Monday, 2 June 2008

shall we have those curtains

His hobo lit her Lucky Strike in vain. "Dreams don't cite," she strategised between puffs. "Lords and cannibals, revellers ... they're her 'fan base' ... I see you've started working me over with a toffee hammer. Though you asked for it straight."

"Lullaby, lullaby baby,
little candy joy,
queen of the queers art thou born to be,
in despite of boys."

"Sure resolve my core to an orrery of revolving flaws, like that's mature."

No comments: