Your voice, too fast, chattering, clattering against my Self, breaking into my thoughts, though I ... [+]
Your voice, too fast, chattering, clattering against my Self, breaking into my thoughts, though I ... [+]
The way Little Miss Perfect tells it, you'd think I was head of a gang of street thugs when I was a kid. We weren't thugs, we were twelve. All we wanted was some prize money, or at least a bit of ... [+]