Come out of the club, was beautiful. Smell like'm drunk, broke, s a beautiful life. Walk over drunks, the rot on my way. I see the rats eat enough In the shadow of the kebab shops. Stomping through the vomit on Kotti, Junks are befuddled etching spit through the area, behave wrong. Scene-snob on a desperate search for the scene. pierced girls who want me to read street sweeper ...
(Peter Fox)
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