...And the feeling's right
Oh yes it's Hades night
Oh what a night (oh what a night)
And none of that Nuclear Pussy either!
And in an effort to Goth up the iPod I managed to crash not only my iPod, but me PC an' all - all thanks to the bloody Sisters of Mercy videos. But now we're all fixed. Yay!
Growly growly growly - why does technology make life sooooo difficult! They say that it makes life a whole lot easier, but it still takes the same amount of time to clean the house as it did when we sent 5 year old kiddies up the chimneys and down the mines.
A minor miner if you will! Or, if he's inbetween some adolescent state, a man (or minor) miner!
And when I'm relaying any messages to his germanic boss, it's a case of a man (or minor miner), mein Herr.
And if they are excavating follicles, then the man (or minor miner) mines hair, mein Herr.
And how do they do it? In what manner would a man (or minor miner) mine hair, mein Herr.
And what if the mine was in a cellar of a big posh house? In what manner would a man (or minor miner) mine hair in a manor, mein Herr.
And what if the basement of that manor was up for sale, and the seller of the cellar...
AND VERILY, THE READERS OF THE BLOG ROSE UP, AND SMOTE XYMON ABOUT THE BONCE WITH MORE STOUT STICKS THAT YOU COULD SHAKE A STICK AT, CRYING "NO MORE, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, JUST STOP!" AN' SUCHLIKE.
"You're on our manor, and we've rumbled your game"
