He's Like A Detuned Radio

I am no longer editing these posts for spelling or grammar. Deal with it.

Drunken thought from Friday:

Why is gas called gas if when you put it in the car it's a liquid?
I'm just glad I asked Ariel that instead of Peter. He would've hit me.

He sits, cold and nervous, awaiting the inevitable. Lights that were once familiar to him grow distant as he tries to recollect. Fields of wheat and barley, the fresh aroma of shit. Words no longer have meaning. It's the senses that hold all the answers.

I'm just comin' here to come down
I could be here
I could move town

Forced to live like it's a curfew
Translation: It means I love you

Major Label Debut - Broken Social Scene

Fast is better.