sarah, settle down
put your helmet on
walk these streets of gold
with cigarettes you hand rolled
i don't know you
and i don't owe you a thing
you smile so hard it hurts
just when things get worse
you said you've woken from a dream
abandoned by your mother

... could this be?

i don't know you
and i don't owe you a thing
but the children lose their minds
in such uncertain times
and i'm woken from a dream
surrounded by my lovers
oh, woe is me!

between my last entry and now? 48 or so hours of near-constant running around, late piperazine nights and too-hot days

but, now, I lay here - listening to Margot, reading Transmetropolitan and carefully masturbating over six thousand dollars in cold cash.

Time to relax. Things are finally coming up roses...