bugger, get your bloody finger out, because playing privileged is playing possum. day nine: got it! both! I must try to be the perfect person. sometimes noisy, sometimes quiet, sometimes hard and sometimes frail. day ten: I'm too tired to do anything today.but, tomorrow I'll start my diet and answer some of my fan mail. adn't realized that I wanted a war sees misled unity, there's blood on the handle of the door and blood for dirt in polls beats game for a laugh top television whispers vive le psychopath and its chanted in bars, sipping continental lager but belching British breath that will get into your eyes and it'll change your mind hadn't realized see here, you want babies, you want beer look here, why brew babies, why brew beer you want sex and drugs and choice, then don't choose death use your loaf and don't vote death yes to none of this bet on the wrong horse your cash and your trust put on the false one and at the starting gate the so called sure fire and they sure will fire will you cheer them on? why then do you want babies some people don't have gardens some people have never seen dirt some people lust to fondle dirt some people fight for dirt I say give everybody the right to dirt give everybody the right to live and we demand cheaper bus fares now! we have surplus, we have scarcity famines are good news for dealers