my diary said it didn't want a name
we all live in a yellow submarine
i'm pretty numb right now.
i was reading nattz's so i thought i'd make my own diary.
i'm "happy" we're talking again. we had a conversation a
little while ago and i remembered what great times i used
to have with just a bottle of irn-bru, 20 b&h superkings,
slim blues and a keyboard.
taking the subject away from the internet for a moment.
my mumbness grew from a seperation that may have been the
worst decision i ever made.
the choice was always mine to make, i made it. instead of
regret it and worm my way back into jese's affection, i'll
seperate my mind from her influence and given 5 moths, i'll
be deluding myself some more about the future plans for the
rest of my life.
if i got with anyone now, i'd be using them. rather than
upset someone who has given me one of the things they most
cherish, i'll use my hand.
we all live with a yellow submarine?
james said that at the gig on saturday. we had it all
planned and it went nothing like how it should have.
they demanded an encore. we played "the cabbage song"
and closed with teen spirit. jason played the solo his way
(a combination of slayer and metallica), the crowd went
nuts, i put my mic on the stand and jumped in for a good
kicking. dragged myself out and although i was two late for
the first line, i sung the last verse and chorus in a voice
marred by malibu and coke and a couple of punches in the