heads up - beware


Klutch.xls: listen to this . . .

Hey you. You on the train. Yeah, you pillowhead. With the white i-poddy nubs commin out your head. Come here a minute. What are you listening to? Oh yeah, you write that?


I'm listening to songs that I wrote. I like them much better than other songs.

They suit my taste just fine.

I'd give you a listen, but they'd make you want to kiss my pants and we can't have that here on the T now, can we?

I only listen to songs that I wrote.

So what's that you got there? Justin something? Yeah, you like him? Well, my songs are much better. Does he write songs about his drag racing grandmother?

I didn't think so.

I'm not narcissistic; I just like to enjoy myself. Why limit my self pleasure to the sin of Onan when I can participate in auto-erotic-aural-sex?

So, what's your favorite version of "Kick out the Jams?" How about "Changes?"

"Dancing Queen?"

Mine are the ones that I played and recorded.

I can anticipate each breath, each missing note, each fumbled solo.

Can you say the same thing? What the fuck do you do in your spare time anyway?

«« (back) (forward) »»
my other new e.p. heads up - beware

›all comments

›post #97
›bio: klutch.xls

›first post
›that week

© happyrobot.net 1998-2024
powered by robots :]