No one likes to rent. Who would? We're Americans which generally means we enjoy owning our own things so we can abuse them all we want and no one can yell at us or we can just chuck a shoe at them and yammer about freedom or whatnot. Just kidding. Anyway, I feel like somehow in the past my former body died but my spirit was too sinned to be accepted anywhere, so it spent 3467846 years wandering aimlessly around until they found a new body to rent. Sadly, this body is one of those archetypal cutthroat-bitch landladies who probably lives on homemade crack and is as judgemental as the guy who decides whether you get in to Heaven or Hell.
Some punk-goes-pop covers just aren't meant to be. Period.
I've been shot by Mother Nature. Help, I'm bleeding like a slit pig.
The Body has been terrorizing people the entire day. What did I do in my past life?
Spring is here, only it's still fucking ice cold. Spring has just got to be the lustiest season ever. Fresh flowers, birds chirping, girls are wearing skirts again...ahh. But autumn is the most romantic season, with all those pretty leaves and flannel scares and mugs of hot tea. Summer is probably the most lonely, unless you're older than fourteen and can drive or if you're willing to walk a lot. Winter is where people wiggle their hands and go "Ehh..." It just depends how much in "love" you are.
I should be doing homework.