800

Let me count the holes in your foundation. Let's remove the costume you escaped in. Hold up your legacies, I'll tell you which ones my favorite. Hold up your vernacular innocence. I'll teach you about the perks of patience in seminar format. This tailor made scrutiny ain't suitin' me. And it's getting brisk, brick as fuck. My skin ain't thick enough. I learned to walk with an anchor in my back pocket. I read palms during even the most brief handshakes. Well, I'm wallowing, following my little, lost, princess to the promise land. Hollerin my potent slogan, hell, if Nostradamus can...
conquering these open roads with throttle pin to floor, because I plan to win right after I finish these chores.

I think the greatest harm done the human race has been done by the poets...they keep filling people's heads with delusions about love...writing about it as if it were a symphony orchestra or a flight of angels...