You think you're denying me something, well, I've got plenty. You're the one who's missing out but you won't notice till after five years, if you live that long. You'll wake up all loveless!

What the fuck are you talking about?

I dare you to take me on.
I dare you to show me your palms.
I'm so bored with cowards, who say they want, then they can't handle.

My brain hurts a lot! Five years! THAT'S ALL WE'VE GOT!

A cop knelt and kissed the feet of a priest, and a queer threw up at the sight of that.

You can't handle love.

My name is Mr. Touchshriek. Of "Touchshriek with mail over and fantasy". My shop sells egg shells off the sea-shores and empty females.

I'm thinking of leasing the room above my shop to a Mr. Walloff Domburg, a reject from the world wide Internet. He's a broken man, I'm also a broken man. It would be nice to have company. We could have great conversations! Looking through windows for demons and watching the young advance in all electric.

Some of the houses around here still have inhabitants in them (I'm not sure if they're from this country or not).

I don't get to speak much to anyone or that sort of thing, if I had another broken name... Oh, I dream of something like that.