"I wanna lay you down on a bed of roses razor blades"

Thirteen same old computer has killed thousands
of tired faces. A screaming innocent girl has fired a
bundle of file and put a restless-beloved dji sam
soe into her John Lennon-look glasses to seduce
Powershot Pro 1, papers, and a cup of black
coffee.

She hear people laughing and a repeatedly boring
conversation on the phone. Two thousands six ring
phones per day had drivin her as crazy as her own
song @ winamp between the most intimidating
sounds of mouse's clicks.

She wishes someone misterious that she don't
even know come into a nameless-purple night, into
her pesimistic-rebelious life and brought her
somewhere far away from where she stands,
where she never admits a place that belongs to her
biological father: a simple place where she usually
buy some rolling paper almost everynight.

Soon after she quits from her job, she goes to the
beach, watching sunset while playing guitar, and
screams as strong as a first true kiss could ever
done from a warm lips.

Jesus to her.