the pimps that ride around in their ferraris and smoke their weed and play basketball on the nintendo have no way in the art of knowing the next step in a series of sequences devised by an elderly woman who eats tarantulas for a living in the eastern most part of the rainforest where the tapirs like to dance to a song written and recorded by a man whose name is unknown to all but one other man on this planet who is now dead because of a bullet that came from the gun of those same pimps we're discussing right now.
Can't write any more, lost my buzz.........
Can't write any more, lost my buzz.........
