It is time to put this doggie down. Thanks for playing.
I know it’s over. Upon the platform inside the slaughter house. Just a slip away from murder (over). In the night a mystery should unfold, where I wish for waking up unaware, but it’s not unclear at all. Underlined in red on your jacket sleeve was the curse blank as a toothache, but it’s not unclear at all. I KNOW!
I know it’s over your final descent ick ick ick! Mixing pills and gas with incest on the plane over. Folded up the last year of your life. Every play you tried to write in school. Venice is the right place to kill yourself like a cricket blob in the cactus club, pass away and chirping in my ear.