Nothing to say, everything to dream
whirls of bright, busting at the seams
all of an idea, half the wrong
once sung lyrics, twice the song
Can’t handle my wicked flow? Than ya betta check yaself birches. Thanks for wishing happy birthday, thanks for signing my guestbook, and thanks for puttin up with my lack of updates, which will change as soon as I get my computer back up. You may be victim to an onslaught of photos that I’ve takin in the past few weeks, or maybe I may find that all you victims may not be able to fully comprehend the bitchin-esse nature of our style. Guess ya gotta wait and find out…
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