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Death In My Yard before/after I just wrote a song. There's a bunch of foxglove, in the front and the back. And they're poisonous. Its like growing death in my yard. I like it. The song and the flower. Pretty little, deceptive...death. Music. Music. Music. Its saving my soul, you know. For what that's worth. But its better than nothing. I'm not ma' teresea. I wouldn't want to be ma'teresa. Unless she gets sainthood. Then I'm definitely envious. Lets start a band. We'll call it The Decadent Popes. I need a hot, talented female vocalist to change her name to ma'teresa. (one word) Whomever else has to choose a decadent pope, and their name will be a one word smudge of that pope. And we all wear the hat and flashy robes and stuff. And we'll play whatever the fuck we want. Because we're The Decadent Popes. We'll, maybe not. But for fun I'd fuckin' do it. If only I can get pope apparrel cheap. Beats my last band name idea of Deep Bra-Strap Groove.
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