It allows them to repeat their destiny (overheard theory of the chorus) / the successful restoration of abandoned buildings (this isn't working in Detroit or Los Angeles) / the rushes and stoppages / sin and bottled water until the ladies fell over like ten pins tin pan him and when him is simply a metaphor for the cotton curtain (don't answer that)
Pleasure torments me sometimes like I'm not worthy or too worthy, god or a prostitute. I never wanted to judge my sister, for selling her body for freedom and dope fiend that she is proof that you can babble beyond good and evil and still split them into enemies in love like mom and dad, but I would borrow niggas from the pawn shop and beat them black and blue until the cops are high fiving me leadership be the recurring nightmare of the clean slate coon I blooming in some ecstatic meekness
Isn't this another way to pray he says turn around Ornette Coleman version together we know all the winners and all their lyrics by heart like sheer titles are far to be stiff drink up wake up in purple velvet and lost track of the difference between a gun and a microphone when Sunday waits for its bones to break as gardens do
You can be up to your boobies in gardenias and still be on the plantation
