I Am A Terrorist And All Of You Are My Friends Who Have To Stop Me Somehow
Don't ever say "awe-inspiring" to me ever again.
It is too sunny here to see the flashing lights
of the band Metric. I just added you to my blog
reader. Congratulations on your newest Polaroid
of our friendship. It will fade and be destroyed
just like the real thing. Maybe it will find a
Polaroid girlfriend and have true romance. But
still, it wasn't that great a pic anyway. You
are kind of a fake. It is too bright to read any
of your crappy facial features. I mostly just
need to insult your Fig Newton-ish face. It's
nothing personal. It's not your fault. It is.
I am going to run you all over with a go-kart
made out of molten lava. Then I will sleep for
ten days and feel horrible about what I've done.
I miss you all. Do you think about me sometimes?
Sometimes I wish I was a missile aimed at an
important military target. You could write
"these colors don't run" on my forehead and kiss
my metal. I am sick of things that sound pretty.
Some say our friendship will end in fire or ice.
I hold with the ones who say our friendship will
end in a big USS Cole sized hole in your face.