Back when they were young. I never liked Mick Jagger; he’s always looked like a frog in a fright wig to me. I think more men think he’s sexy than women. Just because he’s been laid more than a 1000 harlots means nothing as far as looks. Anyway this song negates nervous breakdowns. I guess it’s an outdated term anyway.

Annoying teenyboppers screeching. They’re as old as your Grandmother now, think on that for a few.

I’m sliding down the depression highway. The poison ivy is spreading. How, I don’t know. The plasma that seeped out of my arm isn’t suppose to carry any of the ivy oil. It isn’t suppose to spread. My arm feels tight like an over blown balloon. At least it occasionally gets my mind off of what’s running around inside it.

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