|student:||hey government can I have some money to go to university|
|uk government:||sure here you go. you'll have to pay it back but only when you're earning £21,000+ a year, and if you don't pay it off after 30 years we'll just write it off, don't worry about it man|
|scottish government:||nah man just go to uni we ain't gonna charge you|
|us government:||no. you gotta pay it yourself. upfront. your parents have to save up from the moment you're born. good luck, fucker. you have six months after graduating to start paying loans so you better pray to fucking god and jesus that you have a well-paying job by then or be prepared to be fucked up the ass without lube.|
So fragile and fertile,
Pain filled the void when boy met girl.
He’s a puppet to nature,
One year later, now so deeply and sickly in love, it makes him hate her.
The average romanticized American relationship sinks -
Capsized when either side becomes a slave to it.
Conditioned, dependent, afraid to be alone,
He needs that feeling that he can’t create all on his own.
He despises the fact she has a life outside of them,
It drives him crazy to think she’s not insanely consumed with him.
Give her the guilt trip, and maybe she’ll quit living,
To stay behind his prison walls and lose all individualism.
Well this is happiness, masochistic torture.
Plagued by the decadent, crave for affection.
The needle digs deep to push contentment through his blood stream,
It drowned out hollow - the pothole of a junkie.
If he could only hear her sing, he wouldn’t want to break her wings,
But emptiness has such a warm, subtle sting.
She makes up for what he lacks - trapped.
He can’t imagine life without someone like that.
We’ve rediscovered the long, lost art of dying,
Only the lonely resent angels for flying.
Twisted, living off each other’s sickness like parasites.
This is paradise.
What a beautiful world…
Emotionally destroyed, her became plural when girl met boy.
Between several break-ups and many relapses,
Routine read comfort led to serious attachment.
Now every once and a while, she forgets to breathe.
Terrified of losing him, paradise is misery.
Too much faith in the life saving knight in armor,
Now the knight’s noticing the scars she can’t hide any longer.
They were her story way before he was,
It’s gross hope to think that he would heal such deep cuts.
At first it felt so right, but after one too many fights,
He turned out that hallway light and all the wonder turned to spite.
So they sleep in the same bed with guns to each other’s heads,
Dead to romance, boiling the blood that painted roses red.
Suffering from post honeymoon disease,
Leeched to his whole existence - she’ll die if he decides to leave.
Addicted to the way she feels when they spend time together,
Detouring the now in a childish attempt to find forever.
Despite the fact they hold each other heart to heart,
You can’t be that close to somebody without being so far apart