of the bar. The music stopped. A lot of feet passed by. Some of them by accident kicked me.
One kicked me too hard.
“Do you want to fuck me, scumbag?” President Carter said to me.
“I can’t fuck.”
“You’ve got syphilis?”
“I’ve got cancer.”
“Gee.” He put his arms around me and kissed me.
I USED TO BE UNHAPPY
I LIVED IN THE CORNER OF A ROOM
THEN YOU CAME ALONG AND FUCKED THE SHIT
OUT OF ME
I WON’T BE UNHAPPY AGAIN
SPRING IS A COCK THAT’S HARD
I KNOW YOU’RE A SECRET TERRORIST
‘CAUSE LOVE LEADS TO DEATH
I WON’T EVER BE UNHAPPY AGAIN
THOUGH IT’S BEEN A WEEK SO YOUR LOVE’S
THE WORLD’S ABOUT TO EXPLODE
TERRORISTS NEED NO MORE COVER
OH YES LOVE LEADS TO DEATH
I couldn’t hear any of that political music shit I just wanted to kiss
the guy again and again. The music made it so you couldn’t hear the words
and the music itself was so loud music couldn’t be heard
you weren’t hearing
this is beyond hearing
you is just vibrations so there’s no difference between self and music.