“You could rub a dry turd with a whole can of linseed oil, after all, and all you'd end up with was mess of shiny shit.”
“...and - holy shit was this song bad. It was like the singer was stabbing my ear with a dagger made of dried turds.”
“Talk about solid turds all you want. The molecular integrity of shit is small potatoes.”
“it could all be so simple, but you'd rather make it hard, loving you is like a battle, and we both end up with scars,”
“If all the artists you loved changed you, they'd hack you up in little piece and you'd never get back together. That, or you'd end up loving only one artist forever.”
“It'll all end in tears and oil.”