W
W
Guest
morrissey. what do u suppose he does all day?
he reads the paper. i bet he had a victorian breakfast table. painted white. i bet he has a sliding glass table. or a green room. the kind when you are inside and outside. he has reading glasses, definitely.
he eats yoghurt and almonds. we all know that.
he has a couple of cats.
i bet the birds float so nicely to his tree outside.
he has to have a tall oak tree outside. a big one that is pretty to look at in his green room.
i bet he has a cord rug. he may have a persian rug under the victorian breakfast table, since the english and the orient. u get the picture.
but for some reason, i feel strongly he has a cord rug. must be those irish roots.
oh, and the purple velour slipper! a must. he runs them over the cord feeling the bump, bump, bump while he reads his paper and drinks his tea.
ah, the sun crackles thru the leafy green trees. small yard. the birds settle on the branchs. they cock their heads.
total peace.
i just imagine such a peaceful arrangment.
do u think he has a fireplace in the green room?
it is prolly a half green room half fire place, like a function hall, but smaller.
oh well.
lovely music, morrissey.
everything is so lovely. giving meaning. giving expression.
what a lovely time.
i wonder if he reads regular papers. not just the nme, but the new york post. or the la daily, whatever they have.
and everything is wonderful. la-da-dee. la-da-da.
he reads the paper. i bet he had a victorian breakfast table. painted white. i bet he has a sliding glass table. or a green room. the kind when you are inside and outside. he has reading glasses, definitely.
he eats yoghurt and almonds. we all know that.
he has a couple of cats.
i bet the birds float so nicely to his tree outside.
he has to have a tall oak tree outside. a big one that is pretty to look at in his green room.
i bet he has a cord rug. he may have a persian rug under the victorian breakfast table, since the english and the orient. u get the picture.
but for some reason, i feel strongly he has a cord rug. must be those irish roots.
oh, and the purple velour slipper! a must. he runs them over the cord feeling the bump, bump, bump while he reads his paper and drinks his tea.
ah, the sun crackles thru the leafy green trees. small yard. the birds settle on the branchs. they cock their heads.
total peace.
i just imagine such a peaceful arrangment.
do u think he has a fireplace in the green room?
it is prolly a half green room half fire place, like a function hall, but smaller.
oh well.
lovely music, morrissey.
everything is so lovely. giving meaning. giving expression.
what a lovely time.
i wonder if he reads regular papers. not just the nme, but the new york post. or the la daily, whatever they have.
and everything is wonderful. la-da-dee. la-da-da.
