I'm afraid they dealt with drugs and knives, I just shut my door and cried. So I'm a dog in my own house, kicked out of my own kitchen, freezing, bu him who is warm and is saving. He offered me, but didn't deliver a thing. Another moves in! Nine till five is a joke song. No dealing with this, it is disgusting. Her Maharishi is on death row, and about time too. He's up for the fry. Anyone who is stupid enough to believe, and offer money, is fit material to be taken for a ride. No insurance policy. Someday, sometime, call it in, religion, with its dog woman, whore, blood clot, sore. How noble is the voice of religion when it is crossed, kicking at my door. You never existed in my reality. If there was any chance of a spark I would have caught it, but it didn't exist. For all of your love theory and chakras, you passed before me without a single memory. It was just some crap foreplay you tried on me, as empty as an advertisement for something we don't need ordinarily. Foodbye crap, but stand firm against too many offers in the night to reconciliate.