So I got my gold eyeshadow, baby blue bobby sox, cold sore concealer
- why be in it? For the eggplant imac-matching aubergine cell phone.
'Do you have a girlfriend? can I have your number...' You'll have it
branded on your wrist, concentration style, concentrating on how good
I'm looking with my mouth full of s-club-7, concentrating on not coming
too fast. You wanna lose your $15 dollar commission on a three-day stubble?
Then slow it down. Drugs well spent. Come on pal, you're only 40. Since
when did moustaches look good on anybody over 20 and uh when did road
works fashion hit my scene? Only roads in here's the one to the loos
for a cheap line of baking soda. Fuck the strobe! Buddy you look totally
like you play rock music. Keep those trainers in the dark.
Rachel Hunter's calling, better finish up. Wipe you? I ain't even gonna wipe
me. What is it with Rachel calling for cheap speed? That solo mother from G.I.
pashing up the black-magic crew... Fuck the red socks, that kiwi slapper's going
for the red face in New Idea. Here's a new idea Rachel, you ain't 16 and fellating
ice cream cones in red convertibles anymore, so stop smirking like you're the
one bringing Ricky Martin around. 40 fucking 000 tickets in three hours, and
every one a frigid misdemeanour. Americas cup, fucking black magic? Only if you're
hunting David Tua leotard girl. Stick to the real thing and like uh, move along
people there's nothing to see.
See Davey Tua's bringing it all to little ol' Auckland, pinching the holy grail
title from devils like Don King, and he's totally doing it with like a bucket
of KFC and a cinderella Samoan complex. As pure as the man on the port. Not like
New Zealand's second ecstasy death - should just leave that stuff to the poets,
pornographers and thiefs. Like, that silly boy was a surfer or some sporty thing.
I mean what's a hick ol' hippy like that doing at an Auckland rave. Fucking stick
to the gathering and fire juggling little man. Up here we only live on froot
loops and press passes.
Speaking on press, only press True Bliss are getting now is by the flesh of any
bartender who still recognises them. Thought that was illegal. Everyone knew
it'd happen when those Telly-Tubby casting couches turned 18. I mean in this
town you gotta stay down and stay under. Like what self-respecting red-bull sales
rep'd get off on rusty pussy? Rusty nails you lot, like why am I even talking
PS. Hard candy's not a drug anymore, its only my pre-weekend make-up so if you
can't stand the heat then uh, don't leave such a big tip.
Personal disclaimer: Daniel Sterling Mancini: High School drop-out,
Art School drop-out, University drop-out, is was and never will be prince.
Apologies to the creator, my family and of course all artists concerned.
Sagittarius: year of the tiger:
Sag (hang loosely, droop)
Tar (stained or sullied)
I (me again)
Us (form of we)