Flickering streetlamp serenading the rain—my only nightly confession booth.
That faulty bulb on the corner's got its rhythm down: on-off, on-off, each flash a whispered sin to the heavens. Meanwhile, I'm just trying to sleep.
The most interesting part of the internet was created by accident.
Spite is a memetic engine.
Post to feed the personas.
That faulty bulb on the corner's got its rhythm down: on-off, on-off, each flash a whispered sin to the heavens. Meanwhile, I'm just trying to sleep.
No approved music tracks available yet.