there's always an easy way out.
the not-easy one is just awkward and difficult and claustrophobic
and how much good does it do. it's just all conflicting perspectives anyway.
theres no reason.
till death do we party, how much do we honestly care
blood on the dancefloor
danger, danger, hearts hello kitty, suck it up, let's fuck it up
well then look the other way mister, did i get in your way
Dollars. an amazing store in cph, and it's closing, they lost the interest in keeping it. too bad, the clothes were pretty rad. sales now. bought a hot hot hoodie. superstylish, fashion addicted.
glamour addicted. everything sex drugs and rock n roll, can't stop until we pop, drop, dead on the dancefloor
expensive bubbles and white fine powder well the dream is all yours
if you have the money, the time and the interest.
just thought of it, so many times i could have gone out and partied but ive been too tired or too broke or too disinterested.
at the moment.
just realized another thing. this other style im tryin out and it fits me better than the one before. only now, it could get more plastic.
but we like plastic, love barbie and just adore shallow electro crunk about sexx and random stuff
a drug that makes me fall in love, it's what i miss
across the universe, how many people can there be, there must be someone right
someone who is right for me
it's what i think about, maybe it's just that time in the middle of the month when the hormones kick in before that time of the month
when i just can't sit still when my body moves on its own, like ruled by another consciousness, beckoning and calling and turning up the heat
and i just can't sit still, im a slave for the dirty beat, and if you'd catch me now. oh my goddess. see, you don't even need me drunk. if you get what i mean, if anyone ever gets what i mean.
which they probably don't. save the drama for your mama. life is good inside my hood.
get the riches, the millionaires. how much prettipretti stuff i could buy, like a MacBook, like designer clothes. i know by plattitude-association that money wouldn't make me happy but at least i would have the things i want to have (which is some weird consumer-hypnopaedia someone exposed me to in my baby-days i think). besides, there are more important issues i should think about. like world peace and such but hey, the dollar signs in my body takes hold sometimes. already had so many different periods of anti-capitalist and anti-consumerism, only to shift to the extreme opposites from time to time. i live in the extremes.
some vibes are just so incredibly nifty
like when you flirt, flirt back, a glance here, a touch there. i miss it.
leave a nice taste. talking in different dimensions.
k-i-t-t-y . you're such a fucking cutie pie!
well don't ask. i think. - - - but i like to do it!
Attention. how some people are suckers for it, how everyone needs it at some points. how everyone searches it out like summer butterflies burning in bright colours, breathing life for one day in the sun only to be cold and dead in the wet sand the next.
give me give me more give me more ATTENTION
just made me think of certain phenomena, like how some people get attention. scream aim fire. or just scream. alot. or dress, make-up = rad. hey hey rich boy, look my way. want a taste, but im a human, not a sandwich.
if i want the fucking cold money? hell yeah, it's so yummy
a job. some work while having school at the same time. well it works. for some.
how long have you known each other. how long does it take until you know a person. how do you know when you know a person. when can you say how well you know a person, how long does it take.
everyday a distraction, nobody's worse for the wear, everybody acting cool. could this be as good as it gets?
a rocket bottled up in her backpack, talk about the future like there's some way to control it while others just enjoy the ride
burning bright tonight, could this be as good as it gets?
have a feeling the feelings have been scarce lately.
got nothing to say and better be quiet but hey what about ATTENTION, i must express and expose myself, what drives people and make them humiliate themselves.
really wanna go to a concert but no fun bands are playing. not in sweden anyway.
growing impatient.
and this fat-business makes me wanna puke makes me wanna starve myself into a skeleton yet again and show the fucking world how fucking fucked up they are to be balancing on that line
makes me wanna skip every meal like the good old days, run like a madman and tell myself all the ugly words that made my insides burn with self-hate and disgust
the anger and the loneliness, oh those skinny skinny days, bones protruding, what really hurts the most
work out and work away every single fucking ounce of fat. that voice still calls to me, knew how i once was in it's claws.
i wanna go down to the gym like right now and just drive my body to insaness. we are after all, our bodies.
hang like speakers from the powerline. all this pressure and all this pain. if i'd do it again, i'd probably do it just the same.
give me back control.
judging eyes will look yet again. look out or they'll scorch you.
this dream called life. the dreaming continues and obscures the real thoughts on the matter. question your ways.
a riff that makes me dizzy. pleading hearts seek sympathy, a heart on empty, where is the gasoline when you need it.
an honest and crippling moment, wading through firey leaves, i can't recall how to breathe and the wind helps my lungs.
nothing makes sense in a world that is. such a fragile frame. a song that keeps us together in a meaningless dance.
pretending to be forgetting but nothing leaves my mind alone. i can't forget, i can't regret.
break down before you're done. thousands of friends on his myspace page, what does it take. is popularity really your game huh.
buy everything but the mannequins.
to please. how it feels. this is how it sounds, but i need you rockin me.
music is what saves me. when the tempo slows and creates that new new. slips away. free minds.
to all the non-believers. watch the stars. waiting for the brightest one to burn out.
