So you wanna date a rock, eh. Like 65 million years old kinda rock, ya gramma ya great auntie what have you be it so, move it Capitan. It's not exactly accepted by the society gremlins (I call them "people with convictions", or "pieces of shit", for short) so you'll have to keep it sneaky, get it? Yo got me? Shall it continue? Are we tightly embraced as if on the peak o' the Eiffel Tower on a romantic outing with an elderly relative? No, fuck that bucket of bison-puke, we're on the Space Needle with cocaine-covered shnozzes and thousands of purple flowers in our hair, get on The Level why dontcha. I'm in a super position right now, and I'd like to share it! But you gotta give me something in return that's just how it woiks you goddamn fooligan. Fool me again. Heh, noooo way no cow get outta here. Give me some flowers or a milkshake or some shit. Real classy. Shall the salsa go on folks? Slow my roll if it shan't, really, I insist, who are you kidding, get the fuck offa me, d.
You gotta be sneaky, alright. That's all I'm saying. I know I've said a lot of fucked up shit in my life but it's really all been about that central claim: sneakiness - key. Key baby. Key to my heart, unlock it with love you dirty schmuck (may he rest in peace). Not gonna try to be jocular here, bisons. No-no ain't nobody going to like it if you go down that dark path -- and Believe Me, You -- shiiiiit's dark. But when you have a button to press, it demands pressure. Press away me lovelies. Send it to the Press. aweounacwdivunaiweurf AWEORIAN DFJFIIII XNIEME Iznugi. thuiodddd. czxciu erthu anjkoi dfah.
And you can quote me on that last bit; the rest was nonsense.
- The Glass Man
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