The shit in the river is different every day.
He's not dead. I refuse to believe it as I wake up in a place I haven't woken up in before.
And where is my bitch valentine Bêbe? Drinking bitters in a gutter I hope (not with a hole in the head, on a cold slab, left behind in my journey, I hope).
Say what you want to say, I'm watching you
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Say what you want to say, I'm watching you