spiderbaby

as we sit here Mr Steven W and myself.. playing old tool songs on guitar whilst i perv at all u hot chicks and occasionally tap on the keybored to the bizzar broccoli beef beat..
i shake my hand to congradulate myself in finding a hand to shake. (is a paradox present?)
I push back my flat black hair. The northbound train is spiraling toward the quintessence of my vomit. (this all makes sence in my head)
As they say in Burma, They're making me drink munky milk... blah!

anyways.. enough of that...