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My go...
The pills the chills the turn it feels it steals the thrill the will to stop this feeling.
The lights at night the basement trace of pain the blame your name forever smiling.
The don the gone the pain the plane the taste the waste the haste of love is born.
The guys are hard to ignore, can't bare to stare anymore.
The summer sun kept off the fog the grave remains of faith that you have anything.
Get up get up the clock has stop has stopped to work you serve the desperation.
Tricks *
Sadly I must go back to work now but that's what I got for the start, I reckon it's pretty damn close and it differs from yours quite a bit in places, I'll give it another crack when I get back later, hopefully.
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Please rush me my portable walrus polishing kit.
Four super brushes that will clean even the trickiest of seabound mammals.
Yes, I am over eighteen, though my IQ isn't.
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