in my dreams, my friends come to visit me in new york. they bring me money but i refuse it on principle. also, there is some sort of fact-checking problem. i have no idea.

this was a hard song to play and sing... mostly because i was terribly hungover. oh yeah, and also it's horribly depressing.

singing our own funeral song... rustling our feet through dead leaves that were once our flesh.

long, droney, buzzy. take it or leave it.

sometimes i think all i'll ever need is you, me, a bottle of whiskey, and a couple of limes.

Phone prank via www.prankdial.com to Darin.

Reg told her it all, then he had to leave. His new flat has a bit of a gloom about it on this morning when he wakes to the Buzz of the Tv....................

just the begining to a unfinished song

Groovy Soca 2011