we are one in a million we are one and the same like buildings of our generation, they'll censor it with a whistle now the mercy of our mother there is nothing left to do it's only human nature pollutes temptation we have reserved bookings for the fathers of our nation (please god tell me i haven't got this right!)
the peeling microwavers and a telescopic eye intimate dimension keeping perfect track of time the rolling mass of thunder on a simulated line
where noone else could find me the way it was supposed to be More from The Mad Caddies