The Daily Fix

so even though few thoughts make sense to you, those orderly little bunnies are going to drive you from the path of unreason? what kind of nonsense does that make, i wonder? the only lyrics that haven’t been written by somebody else are those which you’re too busy not busying your gilded cage with. turn off the news. go outside. fuck somebody. this isn’t really going to work, unless your little lizard brain can magically turn into something more than a sensor for what is and isn’t. it’s fifty-fifty, right down the line, in your life. look at it that way. i like it. i don’t like it. this makes sense. this doesn’t make sense. well, what if is and isn’t are beside the point, oil-slick styled vichysoisse man? your nut must be white-russian-soaked wood if your only fallacy is your complete and utter lack to compute fifty percent of everything. let’s try to compute less, shall we? 3 out of six is bad, i’m here to tell you. understanding isn’t subjective or objective, it simply lives in a little cave where everything’s monochromatic, in “different shades.” ambiguity is just another word for stupidity. most definitely, nothing is everything. look at it there. look at tit there. tit, it is looking. go out and get fucked. warts.