Tiger, tiger, burning bright,
In the forest of the night,
Can you hand me your lighter?



i have a thing for christopher walken

Sometimes I catch something shining in the corner of my eye, but when I turn to look it's gone.

I wonder

Does Death walk with me?

Am I ready to die?

Is my final instant lounging lasciviously around the corner in a badly cut suit?

Is it on a packed bus or subway car, waiting to smear me across a tunnel?

It'd be fresh if my guts patterned out like bubble letters.

Still, I'd rather have 6 rounds pumped into my chest, making me do a jittery hot foot dance.

Some Parkinson's shaking shit without the Parkinson's.

My big fear is that in my last moments I'll suddenly take myself too seriously.

It would be a blessing to look a little retarded--not too retarded, though.

Just enough for me to crack a smile through the pain.

A twisted, shit-eating grin.



Now you're all gone you've got your makeup on and you're not coming back...

broken social scene