I never knew me a better time and I guess I never will.

It’s lonely out in space, on such a timeless flight.

You don’t believe what you write.

“We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.”


“Hi! I’m Anxiety! Where can I put my stuff?”

Wish I knew what you were looking for.

“I’m thirty-seven.” “What?”

A humiliating kick in the crotch.

Crunchwrap supreme.

Too much time on my hands.