SOMETIMES YOU BLOW IT

Back to the 60's, tight in stomach. No malice aforethought. Too bad the Grudgemaster Generals. I get away with nothing, Golden Boy is here, there, and everywhere. Maybe the pain will stop, but it'll take some time. I got nothin' but fucking time anyway. They've set loose the Monster; I knew it was going to happen one day, and it looks like this is the day it all goes down.

Things change, in a moment's notice. I didn't do anything, I mean what the fuck, I mean what the fuck? They are all in Gold, and we are city shit! We have no earth to revolve in, but they think they are the Earth. Here we are, circling their earth, like we are the minions in some grandiose play that they keep staging; only for them, not for us. They like to watch themselves in the mirror and ask not what your family can do. It's more like what my family can do for them. Faltering Kennedy vibe going on here. Only the cracks in their head will soon bleed, but it just doesn't seem to happen. Ever.

My stomach is tight and I don't want to bleed to death; nearly, and again. This will take some time to get over, but it's finally done and I knew the day would come, but I just wasn't fucking ready for it.

Halloween mask my ass!