Psychic spy satellites.

I don't have much time to write much anymore,
nor much to write much about, and I can't write as well as I used to,
in June.
I wish I was a girl, so I wouldn't be so angry all the time,

but the world seems like an awfully big place, and there are too many things to do,
and too mant things to believe in,
and to disbelieve,
and you're not quite sure which will lead you anywhere,
or which is true, if there is such a thing at all,
so you drift a bit toward any planet that you pass,
merry-go-around it,
and then you're off f f f f f .

I only wish they would give you a map.

Pisces, again.



Hey,
let's have bubbles at our wedding.