oh, february

oh you are sick you are ill fated and thrilled follow the robot to some enlightenment just to find there is no excitment haha you ants you orderly slaves and you think your free in to many ways your taboo's your education it's all just trash they feed you like wolves stripped of its pack cigararettes cigarettes give me some more my lungs are feral open like a whore like sores on your face sores in your shoes sores on your ass don't give me them blues drink till your marry or drink till your dead finish it quick crack the bottle on your head let it bleed let it bleed untill your carpet is red then ask your self this question is it to late to go to bed?