something nearly all of us wrote together

The east coast of Australia, running up and down is the town, of Newcastle.

Wandering the streets of this town in many a character otherwise known as 'bogans'.

The death of existence happens within this town, individuality criticized with singular

words, there is only 2 degrees of separation between breaths and our only aim is to escape.

DEATH TO PANCAKE!

We forget the past. We start again. But less naive though.

Scrutty walks on by. You wonder is it a choice, a sentence or a crime? The answer doesn't matter but the question does.

CHOICE is debatable - did the universe choose to exist? Do we have individual choice because of this? How can we choose anything when there is the possibility we have chosen nothing.

There are 36 spaces on a roulette wheel. There is a 1 in 36 chance that you will fall in love/lust next summer,

AM I EVIL?

The devil is scared of you, 'hades' is what the devil describes as your soul.

Magic eight ball, all signs pointing to yes?

Being absent from home, has readily made us drunk. Ransacking an old Latvian's home with vanity and alcohol - this is a great secret. It is not falsified.

Spanish. English. French. Dutch. German. Love/Hate. Home/Hell.

Je suis (INSERT WORD FOR INTOXICATED HERE)

[insert 1000 reasons here] look, i guess it all come down to this, you are not evil. You read DOSTOYEVSKY. You get me?

Bligh is a kind of Quetin Tarantino crossed with Lady GaGa.

He needs to find some 'Kermit the Frogs' - to be some kind of Cruella De Vil - to murder,

green slimy things.