So, I killed 3 people at first, found out one of my teachers goes to the same record store that I do, determined that some people in an advanced English class barely know how to speak the language, realized that John Paul Jones stole Keith Emerson's keyboard for Caroulselambra, dared to live on the edge and bring my lunch into Vons during lunchtime, ate some magical clam chowder crackers, learned something about art in Spanish, and figured out some weird settings to do with a synthesizer.
It's also BROCK'S birthday, so I made him a wonderful song:
During the weekly football game that I'm forced to attend, a helicopter flew over the field with its search light thingy. I circled around a few times, and a person with a megaphone shouted, "You! Yes you! Stand still laddy!"
But really. I have nothing to do right now. It's also 11, so I should probably sleep.
Or
Make
A
Rap
Yo wassup
I like my poetry
But it's not really the thing for me
Because you see
Poetry
Is for people who be
not like me
Cuz you see
I'm a rapper, yes-sir-ee
And that is who I can be, only me, you see, free, jee, thee be me, see?
No.
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