As Always Testo

there she goes, perfecting lonliness at 3am. the radio is humming tunes of forgotten songs we love. songs we hate. song wes crave. songs we buried up to this date, you see....grab a knife, no gun, better gasoline, stick it in and kill all you felt. burn it up, cut em up, show the motherfuckers we ain't playing. guess what? now, up to this day we worked fine, but bitter days cross our plans and puzzled what we thought was love. thought was hate. thought was lust but gave up anyway. i hate you and your fucking friends, too.