all the men in my life had only one motif: god, she sounds: just like my mother! oh i didn't **** the men... i didn't **** the women either... i guess i had a mother... i guess i had some origin story: unlike adam: a mathias with a womb rather than a god... for all i know the whiskey made sense: the rest was just mediocre. but hey! i didn't complicate your life with my addication: as i didn't complicate my life with your narrative; last time i checked, all it took was a single mum with a young buy who read me a book in german on a train from Romford to Stratford, and even though i know he was narrating to me a story about the personification of trains in: all i could recall was the song: hanzel & gretyl: mein kommandant... the fetish of being a father overpowered me in having to overpower the fetish of ****: cuz vaacheeking **** und alloowing a nun monopoly, didn't really bid me a well enough goot-nacht. a little kinder on the train speaking to me a kinder-deutsche... wouldn't your heart melt?! es hat weh getan, zu sehen: kinder-deutsche.