9:00 pm - Tuesday, Apr. 23, 2002
Song:
Written on soemthing in Government one day:
My hands are warmer then my arm.
"I don't like the Irich cause they all drink"
"oh"
I hear the ring-long of people being ignorant...
Each and every girl withing my range of sight has that hait. Light brown with bright highlights. It's so repeditive. The same thing again and again and theres nothing impressive anymore. And thats not a surprise. Because intrest became boredom long ago and we just don't see the need to search.
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