2004-11-03, 5:44 a.m.
oh im so done with reading vanity fair.
cuz hey lady, you're just so far gone.
cuz you can't the sing the songs that we sing, no don't bother, don't even hum along.
cuz you write like you got something to prove, or someone to prove it too, and that bothers me. and when you say it doesn't matter, it's because you've got it wrong.
you've got it wrong.
wrong.
wrong.
wrong.
cuz this figment you call life, shit honey it doesn't exist.
and neither do you.
are you hearing this?
do you get the jist?
cuz we're all laughing at you.
you know that right?
...oh girl you're so stupid I could kiss you.
you know that right?
I hope you do.
cause honey you've got it rough,
with all the love and lust you make up.
I imagine it's hard to breathe at all,
I imagaine you're getting sick of it,
are you hearing this?
do you get the jist?
cuz the way you stop and stall, is all your fault. there isn't anyone to blame it on...
are you hearing this?
do you get the jist?
so when the spin doctors hype this song, I hope you're content to hum along, cuz there isn't a moment to miss when no one really gives a shit...
about your life that doesn't exist.