diggin' it
like dirt (they say)
feeling it
like men's mice do play
no time
(solitude's got my, back)
Muse keeps rhyming - too late
and perception is off track...
but my green tea
just messed with your yellow chord
she's singing the blues
'cause the reds can't afford (hey mister, you got another cigarette)
she's joking
ecstatic
‘cause Season's are Greeting
meanwhile, back at the ranch
her horses are fleeting
(her you-boats been busted)

ALL A BORED… she’s waiting

who'd have thunk it???

You Belong in Paris

Stylish and a little sassy, you were meant for Paris. The art, the fashion, the wine, the men! Whether you're enjoying the cafe life or a beautiful park... You'll love living in the most chic place on earth.

What City Do You Belong In?

The Pre-Show:
What am I for Halloween you ask? None other than a homemade Kissing Booth (the costume came out ok, huh?)




The Weekend Count:
Halloween parties attended: 4
Sexy nurse costumes: 17
Pirate costumes: 23
Cups of alcohol consumed: 5
Amount of money collected from the Kissing Booth: $21
# of people who kissed me on the cheek without paying the five dollar fee: 3
Amount I charged for a single kiss: $5

Nothing like getting your picture taken with a rapist…



So, I volunteered at the 25th Anniversary Celebration of BET (Black Entertainment Television for you West Milford-ites who don’t know about that sort of thang). My role was to serve as a Celebrity Escort. So that means, “the talent” (as they are referred to) show up in their stretch Hummers, and I need to introduce myself, walk them down the red carpet and chat with them/keep them company on the carpet when the line gets backed up.

Well, it happens to be that this was the longest red carpet I’ve seen in my tenure here in LA LA Land. Media outlets came out in full force to see the likes of L.L. Cool J (and yes, he DOES lick his lips all the time), Usher (he looked better in person than I thought he would), Puff Daddy (or whatever he is calling himself these days), M.C. Hammer (he wore a purple animal carcass), and Nelly (with a bodyguard the size of a small island).

So, who did I escort you ask? None other than George Clinton and the P-Funk, Serena Williams, and Kwame Jackson from the Apprentice!

My humble opinion:
George Clinton still looks homeless but him and his entourage stole the show (which usually happens when you role 20 deep with large afros, wild funkadelic colors, and hair that appears as if Jem stuck one of her infamous pink hair strips in a cotton ball made of coal (nice visual).

Next we come to Kwame Jackson. Poor, poor Kwame, The Donald gave him the shaft. Contrary to popular belief, I thought Kwame was rather obnoxious. His girlfriend, Jessica (they have been dating for about a year and a half) was very sweet as we talked about life, love and the pursuit of happiness. Kwame, on the other hand, must have thought he was still hanging with the Trumpster, as he tried to micro-manage me. He insisted that I talk to all the media outlets to find out if they wanted to speak to him (will someone please let Kwame know that this is the job of his PUBLICIST, not Alpha The Great). He also couldn’t wait to tell me about his new website and company (link to come). It’s actually quite funny that Omorosa (who the press were less than interested in speaking with) actually appeared a lot nicer than Kwame, AND I thought she looked great (she was feeling a little self conscious and asked if she looked ok, huh… go figure).

Last but not least, the red carpet was closing (phew, my feet were killing me at this point) and BET staff needed a strong escort to take on the likes of Serena Williams and keep her in step. (SEE ALSO: I looked like a munchkin standing next to her. CARBON COPY: Mohammad Ali’s daughter, who also attended, eats girls like me for lunch). The press went crazy for Serena, but alas, she was late, and her limo driver nearly kill her as she tried to exit and it lurched forward (do I smell a lawsuit?), so little old Alpha The Great had to shield Ms. Williams from those wacko media personnel who just wouldn’t take “no interview” for an answer.

I could bore you with all the CRAZY details of the evening, but let me give you the highlights of the backstage happenings (as I stood in the holding area where all talent had to be before they did their press junkets:

I MELTED: Snoop Dogg told me he liked my hair and that I was beautiful (I was actually quite honored considering he was encapsulated by his 10 man entourage), he’s got quite a presence.

MIKE TYSON ALMOST BIT MY HAND OFF: Well actually, he grabbed my hand to tell me that I looked good (and like 100 other woman that night). Mike does have a very distinctive “scary man” vibe about him (and it’s not just that monstrosity of a tattoo he has protruding from his ocular region). So no nibbling on my ear, but I as you can see from the picture taken at the after party, we’re close (um yuck).

Sorry about the picture quality (um, yeah Kelli, who’s the liar now!!!)… not my camera. I actually forgot my camera at home (methinks on purpose) and this picture was taken by another volunteer.

ATG GIVES YOU THE SCOOP:

So to sum things up for your… it was a great time. I’ll do a bit more name dropping and post some links so you can see what I saw… (no really, don’t hold your breath).

Another day, another LA…

Dare I give you the celeb encounters of the week?

I fear I must give my fans what they desire. Here’s what has happened so far, the 3rd week of October in the Life O’ AlphaTheGreat:

Tom Arnold almost stole my luggage Bill Maher talked my ear off and Spike Lee sang to me (apparently he wants me to get a prenup).

Just another day in LA LA LAND

... all that and it's only Friday, sheesh.

War.

I can’t imagine being in the front lines. Death lingering in the air like billowing smoke towers. Soul’s life lost floating in your soup. You’re 18 years old, you’re 25 years old, you’re 50 years old… and you just lost your whole battalion.

Death is the closest we come to living life, because in the face of pane, the only window cutting through our heart is our own.

A sunflower’s death just passed before my eyes, like a dessert breeze through my shrapnel wound. You can’t be at peace with yourself if the war’s got a piece

Of
You.

Smile. Joke. Laugh. But it sits there in the back of your mind (hemorrhaging), looks like this clot’s got too much reconciliation (she’s fading fast). This illness is tied to her senses:

GET THIS GIRL ANOTHER ANALGESIC

Her IV is in too tight

She’s not supporting the Left


Because none of them are Right…

You are a Social Liberal (65% permissive) and an... Economic Liberal (31% permissive) You are best described as a: Democrat Link: The Politics Test on Ok Cupid Also: The OkCupid Dating Persona Test

taking you back... because that is what she thought:

Sunday, November 09, 2003


And then they danced...

Because sometimes their mood was blue in hue
And sometimes the gray was used in lieu
And always they seemed to have a muse

Even when it rained.

They felt like crimson
Or maybe brown
As their feet floated
Across the ground.

Lovely.

But they didn't know how
And they didn't know why

But they decided to dance

Instead of to cry.

September 11th (her body shudders).

Embrace death like a hug (she thought) as she remembers the sadness. Let’s not focus on what is uncertain, rather take time today to remember all those in our lives who have influenced our being.

For just one moment, place no blame or shame or fame on anyone. Interject and reflect: who are you without your god (moneytelevisionjoblovertoys), and how can you make the world a better place.

Think. Think. Think.

Before you act(re)

Think about your affect (effect), neglect and disrespect are disarmed
Don’t be alarmed what you might come up with.

GETTHISGIRLSOME: restlessinnovation

segacious or bust (YOUnite)

my heart goes out to those who’s love’s lost and lost’s love...

If you’re like me, than you hate to donate money to places when you have no idea what your funds are going to. Time. YES. Energy. YES. Money. NO WAY! So of course, as I sit in my comfortable air-conditioned apartment, eating my plethora of food, and sipping my myriad drinks (thank you Creator of this world, Karma, and every other entity that contributes to my good fortune) you want to help the victims who are suffering. Not just in the United States, but EVERYWHERE in the world. Incremental things. That is all I can offer. Here is an organization I can stand behind; it’s the little things that count. Of course ALL of you can afford some boxes of crayons and paper for those individuals affected by Katrina. Here’s a link. I urge you to send something, anything! Even if just a pencil sharpener:

ProjectBackpack

And on the 7th day, she was chagrined…

Whatever you think life is about it’s not.

My father used to say it like an old scratched record (repetitive like disaster)

What the fuck is going on? Not just our lives, not just our world, not just…

YOU. You right there: watching your television show, surfing the net, going out to dinner with friends, what the fuck is your purpose?

Why are we digressing here folks? We are living among some of the brightest stars that our galaxy will ever see (yeah, I’m talking about you) so why the fuck are we being lackadaisical?

Let’s question: ourselves, our government, our beliefs.

Bush, I really have nothing against you, I mean it’s not like you control the world, you’re a puppet (busk or bust)

What contingency plans are in place for America's destruction?

Only hundreds died this disaster

SEE ALSO: WEAREDESTROYINGOURPLANETWITHOURHAIRCAREANDSUNCAREANDSILICONBAREDAND...
what about the next affliction (addiction)

You can say it’s about your religion, but in actuality, who the fuck cares if I don’t worship the same SOAPBOX you do.

You can say it’s about money… and when there’s no more left, Gumdrops will be the new currency (don’t make me kill you for CherryRed)

Oh wait, did you have some complaint about the weather? (yes, and I’ll take a side order of slap-in-the-face)

Maybe your “god” doesn’t like me anymore, so she’s pouring marmalade on my sunshine-cakes

GET THIS GIRL SOME THEWORLDISHEROYSTER

She’s stuck in a shell.

So, what do you want to do about it? QUESTION!!! QUESTION I SAY!

Fuck Shakespeare, we need to know what’s going on in our own back(shards of glass)

Let’s change the election process.
Let’s find out what really goes on behind closed doors at the Pentagon.
Let's read more books.
Let’s stop saying to bring our troops home, when they signed up to fight for US.
Let's stop bitching and start itching to change our curls.

Yeah, we shouldn’t be the DemocracyCapers, but fuck, we already stuck our hands in the soup, stop saying it ain’t so…and CHANGE IT.

FUCK THE MEDIA
FUCK THE NEWS

Write your own spin (slap that grin off your smile)

Or go ahead and read it in my obituary.

Gotta love Mike and his penchant for tongue and cheek witticism…

Friday, September 2nd, 2005

Dear Mr. Bush:

Any idea where all our helicopters are? It's Day 5 of Hurricane Katrina and thousands remain stranded in New Orleans and need to be airlifted. Where on earth could you have misplaced all our military choppers? Do you need help finding them? I once lost my car in a Sears parking lot. Man, was that a drag.

Also, any idea where all our national guard soldiers are? We could really use them right now for the type of thing they signed up to do like helping with national disasters. How come they weren't there to begin with?

Last Thursday I was in south Florida and sat outside while the eye of Hurricane Katrina passed over my head. It was only a Category 1 then but it was pretty nasty. Eleven people died and, as of today, there were still homes without power. That night the weatherman said this storm was on its way to New Orleans. That was Thursday! Did anybody tell you? I know you didn't want to interrupt your vacation and I know how you don't like to get bad news. Plus, you had fundraisers to go to and mothers of dead soldiers to ignore and smear. You sure showed her!

I especially like how, the day after the hurricane, instead of flying to Louisiana, you flew to San Diego to party with your business peeps. Don't let people criticize you for this -- after all, the hurricane was over and what the heck could you do, put your finger in the dike?

And don't listen to those who, in the coming days, will reveal how you specifically reduced the Army Corps of Engineers' budget for New Orleans this summer for the third year in a row. You just tell them that even if you hadn't cut the money to fix those levees, there weren't going to be any Army engineers to fix them anyway because you had a much more important construction job for them -- BUILDING DEMOCRACY IN IRAQ!

On Day 3, when you finally left your vacation home, I have to say I was moved by how you had your Air Force One pilot descend from the clouds as you flew over New Orleans so you could catch a quick look of the disaster. Hey, I know you couldn't stop and grab a bullhorn and stand on some rubble and act like a commander in chief. Been there done that.

There will be those who will try to politicize this tragedy and try to use it against you. Just have your people keep pointing that out. Respond to nothing. Even those pesky scientists who predicted this would happen because the water in the Gulf of Mexico is getting hotter and hotter making a storm like this inevitable. Ignore them and all their global warming Chicken Littles. There is nothing unusual about a hurricane that was so wide it would be like having one F-4 tornado that stretched from New York to Cleveland.

No, Mr. Bush, you just stay the course. It's not your fault that 30 percent of New Orleans lives in poverty or that tens of thousands had no transportation to get out of town. C'mon, they're black! I mean, it's not like this happened to Kennebunkport. Can you imagine leaving white people on their roofs for five days? Don't make me laugh! Race has nothing -- NOTHING -- to do with this!

You hang in there, Mr. Bush. Just try to find a few of our Army helicopters and send them there. Pretend the people of New Orleans and the Gulf Coast are near Tikrit.

Yours,

Michael Moore
MMFlint@aol.com
www.MichaelMoore.com

P.S. That annoying mother, Cindy Sheehan, is no longer at your ranch. She and dozens of other relatives of the Iraqi War dead are now driving across the country, stopping in many cities along the way. Maybe you can catch up with them before they get to DC on September 21st.

Sorry for the intermission… LIFE: you keep stealing my lines.

Don’t get your panties in a bunch, I’ll rE-turn soon

I’m here right?

Existing with

Every line

And sign

And crime

And rhyme

(she’s thinking)



About every morning flower

That passes without

her know (tisk)



The morning do (or was it dew)

Fooled you

Thought I was living life

Instead I’m stuck in this fish

Bowl

8 hours a life

that’s right

cOrpOrate

sounds too much like cooperate.

SHIT, I’m late

Getthisgirlanotherpunchcard



Her timeclocks been fixed.



The president’s on line twenty six

(I heard he’s a prick)



pour coffee on his endlessdevotion

cause his wife just got the itch

(she’s been cheating)



What did it get you?

(another glass bubble filled with your business card)

your tombstone might decide to copy

Here lies the body of WorksAlot

She's currently not in the office.

NOTE TO SELF: Today is my birthday. I'm 26.

Shower me with gifts...

It’s a Pavlov-like response. Someone whistles: you turn. You have no control over it, even if you try to fight it with all of your being. Instinctual.

So… I walked to Trader Joes. I had some minor shopping to do, and what better way to enjoy the night zephyr than with a brisk walk through my hood.

My groceries included: Fat Free Vanilla ½ & ½, hummus, pitas, pickles, and Sea Salt.

I’m approximately 4 blocks form my dwelling when I hear it.

A whistle. No, not like somebody whistling a tune, or something that could be confused as a whirring or screeching noise,

ENTER: MONOSYNAPTIC REFLEX

but a distinct whistle.

I turned to face the noise, unwillingly, as my body took over.

There he was. A Hispanic male, probably about 28 years of age, approximately 500 feet away from me, seemingly to be a part of the Jiffy Lube work force.

He waved at me

I thought: either this gentleman thinks he knows me, or I must have a pretty good profile from the nose down. SEE ALSO: I was wearing a hat.

Imagine this view from about 500 feet away:


He waved. You can’t stop your body from reacting. Like any good American citizen, I tried to return the gesture. My hands were filled with groceries, so I did this kind of half lift of the groceries, half nod move (yeah, that’s going down in the books) in response.

I continued my pilgrimage. DESTINATION: home

Approximately one minute later, I hear another noise. Someone is coming up behind me (QUICK RUN – she thought).

It was the Hispanic male (men, you scare me).

He was riding a bike (wait a minute, back up, do you mean to tell me this guy chased you down on a bicycle?)

I felt awkward.

He asked if he can help me carry my groceries, and said I was very cute.

Hm. I must have some killer cheek bones.

In any other circumstance, I might have recognized his chivalrous notion. But let’s face it, I’m a Jersey girl at heart.

I declined.

He asked my name.

I said Nelissa. (yeah, that’s right, not “Melissa” with an “M” but “Nelissa”. I have no idea where the hell that came from)

He asked me if I lived in the area.

I said “no.”
He asked me if I was visiting friends.

I said “yes.”

He asked me if he could have my phone number.

I said “why, don’t you have your own?”

He laughed.

I picked up my pace.

He got the hint.

He told me to have a nice day.

As I rounded the corner of my apartment complex, I couldn’t help but think the myriad questions I had for this young man:

- How many other women have you chased down with your bicycle today?
- Was that bicycle just sitting there and you happen to see it and pick it up, or is it yours.
- Did you just leave work, or are you still on the clock?
- Do you have to pay for that uniform, or did it come with the job?

It could have been my destiny. I could have dropped my groceries and jumped on to the back pegs of his BMX and rode off into the sunset.

Moral of the story: when considering purchasing a new bike, go for the bicycle-built-for-two. It’s a real chick magnet.

Or perhaps, even still, in dream state or not
Her eyes pierce your soul
Her touch burns too hot.

To die is to live, describe some cultures at best
The heart and the soul can find eternal rest
From the images that haunt you all through your days
Images of love, as her lips fade away.

All is for naught in this sleepwalk we fathom
Wandering through the days as your mind still imagines
For all that is said and done for your heart
Perhaps a dream is what got us here to start...

Suffering.
Like the news says we are.

Inhumane.
Show your death
Show your breadth
Show you sweat

Set yourself on fire
Just to prove a lie
Kill a dozen babies
And the government will buy:

Your story
Your glory

It’s gory
(I know)

But without the news we have no show
Entertain me.


Affliction like the Man Of The Hour
While Washington Post takes a stab
The BBC and New York Times
Have stories up for grabs.
(but wait, that’s no fun)

Get your camera ready for martyrdom
(we need a good laugh)

So your religious plot went down the drain
With your aborted baby’s fetus
Perhaps we should turn on the television
And that will bring us to Jesus (destruct_shun)

Because the bum on the street just ate my leftover bean stalk (looks like I can’t climb to the heavens)
Hell, Oh. Didn’t know it was invading
Cascading (like the dreams we used to think)

Getthisgirlaglassofperception

Before the news pours her a drink…

Life: Stop staring at my tits
Love: Stop abusing me for hits (acid rain in my system)
New York: You’re HOT (like Paris on a winter day)
California: Keep begging me not to stay

Spit on my karma
I’ll give you a side
Hitchhike on my charka
Throw cotton on my fire

She’s driven (because Daisies got a ride)

Airbrush me another lovescape (her boyfriend made her lie)

GET THIS GIRL SOME OUTOFTOWN BANTER

Celeb gossip will never survive (she’s suffering)

Condition my hair, cause air’s got too much style
Get me an afro pick, before you change the dial
She’s a_Freakin (or was it African)
Stand
Because sitting will get you…

Ok, so I’ve got to post about http://www.craigslist.org/

I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I have spent countless minutes laughing hysterically at the ads posted on Craigs (primarily the Casual Encounters section). I have been thoroughly entertained by the freaks, geeks and weirdoes who try there hardest to get laid :

“I want to anally rape you with a spatula then lick your dogs balls…”

“Come to my house and spit in my grandmother’s mouth as I yell obscenities at your big toe…”

“Sleep with my wife while I watch and make scrambled eggs…”

Um, ok, so the above posts were made up, but seriously, there is some sick sh*t on that site! The part I find most amusing is that all the post seem to follow with “Serious Inquiries Only Please”.

LIKE FUCKING YOUR ANTIQUE ROCKING CHAIR WHILE YOU PISS ON A LAMPSHADE COULD EVER BE SERIOUS!!

So, if you have the time (and I know you do)… READ, READ I SAY!!!

And perhaps next time you can come over to my place and lick bellybutton lint out of my asshole (hehe, that was funny).

Make me beautiful
She said with a smile
Because ugly isn’t perfect
And neither am I.

Give me a flower
She whispered in your ear
Jesus walked the red carpet
But missed the premiere.

Buy me an afterthought
This life’s got Bliss
The cameras are rolling
While the crew takes a piss.

Keep me entertained
Or else she’ll just die
Commerce murdered her sister
In exchange for a tie.

Send me a lyric
She’ll commit (you-a-side)
Her keyboard’s got arthritis
But she would never lie.

And the eye of the needle sees you petrified
(give her another, this ‘wood’s got a life)

Surrender got the part...

looks like Blaaaaahhhhhhhhhg is misbehaving, shame on you! We'll fix the problem soon (Muse & I that is).

Don't let it ruin your day...

Hit me with a borderline
This girl just lost her grit
Put her in another commercial
Agent Sorrow’s idea’s been pitched.

Give the director another dog, cause bitches are too plenty
And when the camera crew is done
Hold their paychecks steady.

a_loan, is where she started
rented out her soul
deflated where her tits
so that her mind would grow.

RELAX:
(she fucked the wind’s brother)
Or so he got blown

This towns not big enough for…

p.s. quit giving fucking suggestions.

1. Total number of books you've owned:
buying, reading, and returning is the new owning (get with it people). Including my bible collection when I was in 6th grade, I’m sure the amount is up in the “start your own reading room” as opposed to the “start your own library” section.

2. Last Book I Bought:
Chuck Pahlaniuk’s “Haunted”. I’m a Chuck fan, love that gory, nasty, sex-aholic, freak.

3. Last Book I Read:
um, see #2

4. 3 Books That Mean Something To Me:
A. Lullaby – first book that made me dig Chuck P’s style
B. GRE Study guide – it means my lazy ass needs to start studying if I want to attend grad school this lifetime.
C. Mutation by Robin Cook – I found this book about a year ago, and randomly it was one of the first sci-fi book I read when I was in elementary school.

I’m adding some new questions:

5. What is the WORST literature you’re eyes have grazed?
Hm. There is a bunch of bad ones, let’s go with Me Talk Pretty One Day… I just don’t get the hype; Or Jonathan Caroll, From the Teeth of Angels, or there was this other one written by an Aussie about a gal’s husband dying and leaving her a letter to open every month, that sucked ass.

6. What’s the worse thing an author can do at the end of a book:
Have a case of Everyone-lives-happily-ever-after syndrome. I hate that sh*t, when all ends up peechy keen, the guy gets the girl, the killer gets caught, the kitten is saved from the tree. How about some REAL drama people… fingers and toes getting lopped off (and no, they ain’t coming back), families destroyed, life, death, and everything in between. Oh yeah, I also hate when a book ends with some kind of silly saying, or quote, or with everyone laughing (JAZZ HANDS, BIG FINISH, BIG FINISH)

I guess I should tag 5 more people, huh, methinks that might have to wait until tomorrow…

and they all lived happily ever after.

Ever thrown up 2 orders of sushi, plum wine, 2 shots of Southern Comfort, a margarita, and some white wine?

Yeah, me neither.

VOMIT (completely unrelated to the last post)

I hate the way they make me feel.

Black men.

Men.

Hispanic men.

Men.

White men.

Men.

As I’m in my car, minding my own business, they stare.
“BUY MY CANDY”
“BUY MY FLOWERS”
“BUY MY STOLEN ITEMS”

Gawking at me like I’M THE CIRCUS FREAK,
with their broken English, “You’s a good lookin’ one, yo”
or “Yo, Ma, you be lookin’ fine”

WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT MEAN?

Now I have to close my window, because you can’t keep you’re dirty eyes, and your dirty comments to yourself.

Street trash, you make me sick.

Call me racist.
Call me sexist.
Call me whatever you want.

Juststopbotheringmewheniamwalkingdownthestreet,sittinginmycar,takingawalkinmyneighborhood.

Purple man with your haunting gape, licking your lips
VOMIT
Blue man with your black eyes, paint on your shirt
VOMIT
Yellow man with your evil stare, wearing your suit
VOMIT

You could NEVER get a girl like me (she spits)

Ok fans, here’s one from the archives… -POP

So I’m at a Nintendo premier party (some new gadget they came out with, I don’t recall the name) -FIZZ, and my roommate is working the red carpet interviewing celebs…
And she works for a show that celebs don’t like, because their dirty laundry’s being aired on the show in the form of legal battles -YOWSER.

So here I am with my large afro trying to flag celebs over, and not even I could thwart the efforts of the divas I encountered. It’s that whole “I’m way to popular right now to be interviewed by Celebrity Justice.” -POW

Of course, on the red carpet, you always have the B-list celebs who talk to everyone, but that’s another story. -BANG

So, HERE’S THE GRAND FINALE (jazz hands)…. I’m flagging over Cuba Gooding Jr. and he comes over like he is going to talk to us, sees who we are working with, and -POOF does one of those “I’m too cool for you hand on the side of the face” moves.

-OUCH.

Foiled again. -ZING

P.S. the Fundraising Event I spoke of in previous post, Honoring Cedric “The Entertainer”, with host Steve Harvey and presenter Jay Leno… is sure to bring some stories to fulfill your bevy of Celebrity Desire. -ZOINKS

Um, June 3rd can’t come soon enough. -BOING

Update you say?

Sparse as my BLAHHHHHHg has been, the public should know that I am in the midst of a large event at my work, thus my life is consumed by planning and logistics.

MUSE WRITES:
Dearest Readers,
Please be patient with Alpha The Great as she tries wholeheartedly to balance this whole life thing.

ATG WRITES:
Um, non profit or bust.

Don’t be worried, I haven’t fallen off some existentialist abyss, I’m merely trying to excavate catharsis (narcosis).

Maybe life should be more like that…

Convert me.

I want to see your lies
In your eyes
Your disguise

Shape me.

Wear my masking
Like footage taped
Continue to scrape (the stories delicious)

Beaded like ties
On a restless, despise
Reality (like the program)

Jesus got into a fight with the Son
Who won?

Hypocrisy.

Put on your pissscentedperfumemadefromanimalbile

I mean, consumerism (you dig?)

Buy me another round of biodegrade – able
There’s a surplus on aisle 10, used condoms for sale

Feed me another daylight savings (shit brown like coffee)

She woke up thinking, “is this really it?”

strike that last comment from the record, or hit me with another one, Sam
(she pleads UNCLE)

Good morning lover

the wind made me breakfast this morning
I hope the moon doesn't get jealous
you left your heart in my hardrive (download it to my nonchalance)
because the stars are seeing double
ellipticate me (your dictionary’s been confiscated)
even code gets confused some… times.

Run me around in circles, your Sunflake’s got too much wax
(she’s melting)

Or did she just take over the hive?
Get me another vile of coffee creation (her reverb’s got bass)
Copper just married a ton of bricks
Heavy on her aortic valve
(get this girl some honey)
check, mate? (KING ME)