evilrandomguyblah

I made a friend, in the summer of '96. This is pretty significant because I don't make many friends, and that year was a particularly lonely one. We worked together in a hotel bar on the outskirts of Vegas, and after work I'd smuggle half a bottle of rum or bourbon from behind the counter and we'd finish it together in the carpark while smoking our lives away and talking about tomorrow's weather. We were both depressed. People used to tell us that we were sad because we were pessimists, but they didn't have a damn clue. True pessimists are the happiest people in the world. No, we were cynics; which is to say, optimists who had their hopes da

you're almost gone from me now, you know                                          (soft) the last few shards of you are slipping through my fingers                               (warm like seashells and                

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1. They buried him on a Saturday 2. Chin up, they say, The world keeps turning, but she can't fucking see it, not from here with half a pack of Dunhill ash   floating in her lungs so she lets the nicotine talk 3. little baby small and warm ill always shield you from the storm 4. the religious nuts shout MURDER but she'd much rather be a monster than bring another child into this cruel broken world 5. she presses her lips against his and mouths    those    three    words just tonight, just   once she holds his hand and   pretends 6.