Story behind the song
I think the song's ok. I'll listen to it back now. The coward stranger bastards looking at me again and feeding off my consciousness can never be my friends, only my enemy, after all they tried to kill me every damn day, but the song and the notes may help clear up the consciences of their peers. That is, real people should be trying to make them tell the truth if not be totally silent, and perhaps even invite them to prison after apologizing to me personally, as in, with me actually in the damn room. Great little actresses, even the men, I know.
Personally I couldn't care, but God likes infinite patience.
So call me conceited.
This is a typical morning in three strangers in shifts to hate me world..... I didn't say anything, but this is the type of thing I had to curry to defend myself ... .....
Title: The Policewoman's Divine Word ....
So divine never actually say anything, only that that other public members say.
No books on her shelf, very Bob Dylan, illiteracy enhances their telepathic genius.
New victory platform men instantly become the spare hubby. That's not hard as all the women got the shock of their lives when they realized they'd married closet police homosexuals.
Impossible to silence them. But there is not anything wrong with them. That's freaks like me.
Brilliant actresses, all of them, including the apparently males.
They thankyou me for the ventriloquism, seeing as I can project words with a shut mouth and they, despite years of practice, cannot.
They carefully selected me as their stranger enemy out of dozens of candidates is pure fiction. I don't have a clue who they are, but I'm quite certain their aim is for one notch equal or higher in cool than themselves. People get stomped down, so they can go up.
No one stands up to them, ergo, the cool around there is about their special 'got me' vendetta. Famous. Good luck running that by the public, a publisher, or God.
The woman is there to support the men of course, not a feminine weapon for them to hide behind. She is not the tower surrounded by homosexual walls with badges.
Like I essay, each day is revenge for the previous unsexes. Clever automatic permission that one, along with the lie I smoke dope.
The womans' favourite cruelty is to pretend she is merely the mirror, of me, of them, of themselves, and why don't I shutup and let them suck soul if they want. They want to investigate themselves one sees, after deciding I'd be something cool to be. For years I laundered this crazy woman's madness, without actually knowing her. Or the mates. At all. Perhaps it's not in my town thing. Police girls can be anything they like I'll bet, and it's cute, but what's the bet they are not on anyone's Christmas list.
Likely one of the girls is the bait, Claremont serial murders. Very much need me dead now.
People have to think them cool of course, being psychic, they know if you are not, ergo, they get few visitors who don't.
And they only lie so much because I'm a box jellyfish for standing up to them. More powerful you see. Except than no one has ever truly seen that at all.
Intention is to suck me dry, and they (haven't?) assured that's well-in-hand. A few more days tops.
They are so good at denial. They just admit it. And people are sympathetic about the illiteracy of course. Typically for them, a man with a shut mouth is a not normal, but men who can't picture the words out of their mouths are not psychopaths.
Title: Gay .... Definitely Not Gay ....
Tone and attitude and demeanor ....
They want me to be paranoid, in fact , to think there is a bug up my behind. True story. Never tire of it.
I'm playing hard to get apparently.
I'm gagging for it, with it being any word anyone likes. By deduction however, this means I can only know perhaps a couple of them personally, if at all. Think about it ....
She, whoever she is,
