Tuesday, November 17, 2009


And so he threw on some Arctic Monkeys and danced through the room like an ape on an asteroid. Down the ailses, between the desks, over the chairs and under the fluros.

Then he screamed and screamed as he danced that crazy dance,
and money - oh how it started to pour - from every pore in that old crinkly ceiling.

Not a care, not a worry, everything that money can buy,
could be bought with these pockets full of cash.

Thank the Gods, with their incest and debauchery,
a life of unrestrained decadence awaits.