You guys think your the people of tha sun, but your just five sided fistagons, filling your arms warehouses as quick as the cells. Your lucky its the year of tha boomerang, or your spit would be worth more than her work, especially as the whole word is jails and churches. After all, don't mothers make good fathers? ranting
Well anyway, **** you I wont do what you tell me. I'm gonna go sit in the campfire light with the ghost of old Tom Joad sleeping