i'm going to drown your baby in a fat man's diarrhea
Palm trees burning. And then, hopefully, the rest of California. Take all the dead and the drugs with you. Palm trees burning at midnight. And the governor's many mansions. You won't survive the afterlife. These motherfuckers with their limp-wristed stranglehold on the cities. It's all going to get a lot worse before it never gets better. Everything will go. It's all about waiting it out. Like waiting for that Denny's waitress to go on her break. The best strategy is sleeping sober through the most difficult hours. Forget Sacramento in July, the car wash at 4am. Sound of lawn sprinklers and smell of rotting vegetation. A newspaper carrier infiltrates the retirement home. Waiting for the convenience store clerk to return from his/her break and open the store again. We need somewhere to go and be alone at all hours.