Rewrite-mylife-with-ahappy-ending

Things didn’t go my way, so I was at San Quintin,CA for the past 100 days. It wasn’t nice.

 The Methuselah Loop Trail. This point is called
The Ancient Forest. Each Bristlecone pine, from young seedling to ancient relic, has an individual character. And in the Ancient Forest, where trees had more than four and a half millennia to develop their character, each tree is a true individual. Every single tree in the Ancient Forest is at least 4,000 years old, many reach 4,500 years and the oldest one – Methuselah – has a confirmed age of 4,768 years which secured its place in the Guinness Book of World Records. In order to protect Methuselah from souvenir hunters and people who would just “love it to death,” the forest service does not disclose its location. It only hints that Methuselah is on of the trees right along the trail in the Ancient Forest.

Going next week to check this tree out!

 This here’s a story of a girl.

Who cried a river and drowned the whole world!

And while she looked so sad in photographs,

I absolutely love her,

When she smiles…

How many days in a year?

She woke up with hope but she only found tears.

And I can be so insincere,

Making her promises never for real!

As long as she stands there waiting,

Wearing the holes in the soles of her shoes!

How many days disappear?

When you look in the mirror so how do you choose?

Your clothes never wear as well the next day,

And your hair never falls in quite the same way-

But you never seem to run out of things to say… 

How many lovers would stay?

Just to put of with this shit day after day!

How did we wind up this way?

Watching our mouths for the words that we say.

As long as we stand here waiting,

Wearing the clothes of the souls that we choose!

How do we get there today?

When we’re walking to far for the price of our shoes!

Your clothes never wear as well the next day,

And your hair never falls in quite the same way-

But you never seem to run out of things to say!… 

Your clothes never wear as well the next day,

And your hair never falls in quite the same way-

But you never seem to run out of things to say…

This is the story of a girl,

Who cried a river and drowned the whole world! 

blink182 song




 

15-50, 50-1 wecant figure this 1 out, but doubt it, then I’ll hit hold it, then lose control of it.Find the way 2 bend the mind,tie mine in a knot,so bad,so it seems, that I scream ,everytime I dream I she her face, with no trace of happiness,just disgrace, from her lies open her thighs, give her the cream pie or shoot it n her I get dressed and say good bye.

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Follow along, hit the bong-o-ver there,singed my hair, I dont evencare. 4-2 weeks same underware, the bush is a bear,shave that shit beautiful butterfly under there,its time to share.

Confusing ones self into dismay,parniod thoughts, take a pill everyday and soon,even more of a loon,always noon in the head of a baboon. Told me once, showed you twice…those are bugs YO, YOU GOT LICE, Discover ice,everyones nice, then mean, your tooth is green, speed bean’o. We dont know, why did minds stop to grow, P-low, blow….. his head off, cough up sum lung-butter- nutter, hearts start 2 pitter- pat, move like a cat, dont run in front of that, splat- a tat-tat, flat pancake,even more a mistake, we must create-ing badda-bing heads in a sling-o, forever yo? Hope no, where did it go? Snow melted, cracked back, turn black,whack goes the head on Ice.

Awake for a while wont even smile cause it smells like bile. Want to dial a friend, didnt answer again.Send my resume in….to get a job,Im dressed like a slob,corn on the cob n bob is all I 8, I masterbate, fore goodness sake, take a break,from the drugs their draggin u down- town to get a beer….. bong, wont take long. Its the same ‘ol song… melody in me, but in reality its killing me, symphony of distruction, conjunction junction malifunction major of brain matter,chatter,flatter myself why am I not a Santa’s elf-kin,nature 2 sin in this world we’re livin again n again repent’in confession a blessin of lessons,know the answers but we’re still guessin, n fess’ins, of conclusions of or own wrong doins, n lose’in a boozin chews’in confus’in think’in, warpin our dissalusion, vision to halucination of dreams it may seem only emotional steam- boat, its the head of a goat in a cloak, laughin cause its a joke, take another toke n choke urself cause that would be better.