Never Again, except this time.
“And so tonight,” he cries from his weary slant across an African patterned futon, “we write!”
Ah, the biting poisoned knife of “Every Rose has its Thorns.” See my wordplay there? Only the few, I suppose, all the sadder. Allow me to elaborate, with, since I can think of no better, an example from the aforementioned.
And well I heard you found somebody new,
And that I never meant that much to you,
Well to hear that hurts me deep inside,
And to see you cuts me like a knife
Yes, fascinating shit isn’t it. That’s the eighties for you. But it rings hard really, especially if you can sing it like W.Axl Rose could.
I hate it, I HATE it, I really, really hate it. Out of the fucking blue. People you don’t need, things you shouldn’t think, suddenly all those words you wanted to say, or promised you’d repress, it’s all one big clusterfuck again. Let’s not get on the ride again mummy, it WAS too scary for me, you were right.
I don’t want to see myself from above one more time, because you have to be honest about what you see when it’s a big picture. You can’t lie about the really large pictures, we’re not talking 2x2 meters either. We’re talking 100 years wide. And I can see it already, rolling back under my retina as I lurch away from the laptop screen.
It’s too late, I’m back in the loop. There’s no way off the rollercoaster once that little padded lock shunts down.
I’m really rightly in for it.
Fuck you. I love you. Goodbye.
Ah, the biting poisoned knife of “Every Rose has its Thorns.” See my wordplay there? Only the few, I suppose, all the sadder. Allow me to elaborate, with, since I can think of no better, an example from the aforementioned.
And well I heard you found somebody new,
And that I never meant that much to you,
Well to hear that hurts me deep inside,
And to see you cuts me like a knife
Yes, fascinating shit isn’t it. That’s the eighties for you. But it rings hard really, especially if you can sing it like W.Axl Rose could.
I hate it, I HATE it, I really, really hate it. Out of the fucking blue. People you don’t need, things you shouldn’t think, suddenly all those words you wanted to say, or promised you’d repress, it’s all one big clusterfuck again. Let’s not get on the ride again mummy, it WAS too scary for me, you were right.
I don’t want to see myself from above one more time, because you have to be honest about what you see when it’s a big picture. You can’t lie about the really large pictures, we’re not talking 2x2 meters either. We’re talking 100 years wide. And I can see it already, rolling back under my retina as I lurch away from the laptop screen.
It’s too late, I’m back in the loop. There’s no way off the rollercoaster once that little padded lock shunts down.
I’m really rightly in for it.
Fuck you. I love you. Goodbye.
posted by Cal Samson at 7:02 PM
2 Comments:
Um, I'm honestly sorry to barge in here and be rude, since I'm not actually a rude person in real life, but I feel compelled to tell you that I believe, as a survivor of the big haired 80's, that the lyrics you quoted were not sung by W Axl Rose back in the day, but rather by the even more annoying guy in Poison. At least Axl was genuinely crazy. Anyways, sorry to correct you. Your blog is interesting even if your name truly scares me.
Rudeness is an often adoreable character trait.
If you noticed my little poison pun before that, well, you'd know that I indeed already know that, but I'm sure our dear god of fake dreads Axl covered that song at some point. If he didn't, I stand most embarassingly corrected.
Nice to see someone reads this shit.
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