What A Pity

Fucked somebody in the backroom, don't remember precisely who he was, don't give a damn, too.

Diseases's identity.

Brunch looking at the fall, leaves & silent arterial road. No blood go back up my heart.

Maybe I'm dead. It's wonderful, how people are talkative, but stupid.

Paris is a tear in a mystical cat's eye.

I don't wanna close mine, afraid of mistakes who will be obvious in the dark.

Listening to the Santa Claus' Song, listening to my first time, oh gash, it is so nothing.

Shitty girl. Shitty champagne. Shitty friend.