How can you stay with a fat girl?

The rain falls down on a humdrum town
This town has dragged you down
And everybody's got to live their life
And God knows I've got to live mine.

William, William, it was really nothing.
The brush of time [?]
How can you stay with a fat girl?
Who'll say:
'would you like to marry me?
and if you like we can by the ring'
She doesn't care about anything
Would you like to marry me?
and if you like we can buy the ring
I don't dream about anything
except myself'


Har har, the smiths are David 'call me dave' Cameron's FAVE band.
His favourite album is 'the queen is dead'. Even though he quite likes the queen.

LEPROTIC

I think I'm in love with Black-face Jesus


I USED TO KNOW A FAT GIRL CALLED GRETA WITH FAT HAIR DOWN TO HER FAT, INUIT ASS.

it won't be that.. oh no it won't be that

Can't leave rap* alone; the game needs me
Niggas want me clapped in chrome - it ain't easy.

Cops wanna knock me
D.A.s wanna box me in
but somehow I beat them charges like Rocky

-Not Guilty

He who does not feel me is not real to me
therefore does not exist
like -poof- vamoose bitch




*read 'the internet'

Swedish Designer Drugs

I wanted to type the lyrics to the 'Rabbi Jacob' song.. then i realised that it's an intstrumental. MENTAL. I changed the computers but it's the dickie connection that yeah

Meat is Murder

and My Parents are Killing Me;
they said they had recorded Heimat, but they screwed up.


YET once more, O ye Laurels, and once more

Ye Myrtles brown, with Ivy never-sear,

I com to pluck your Berries harsh and crude,

And with forc'd fingers rude,

Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year.

Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear,

Compels me to disturb your season due:

For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime

Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer:

Who would not sing for Lycidas? he knew

Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.

He must not flote upon his watry bear

Unwept, and welter to the parching wind,

Without the meed of som melodious tear.

BRATWURST

well. i have photos from cambridge, st andrews, london and berlin. but blogger and this computer are pretty slutty. so no photos for the mo. SOIT. look at my words instead.

'Images can wilfully betray representationalism, but words do so at their peril'

yeah well fuck you, i'll write a cubist blog if i like. my photos aren't as good as clarah's (cos my camera is a piece of junk), nor are they so numerous (cos i'm not a snap happy loser); schnappidyke.slut.com

en nu ben ik bij de countryside.. needless to say i want a cigarette.

San Andreas

RDRR, jack, i used your joke.