Look, i live in a shitty residential hotel downtown. Its amazing what ive dealt with here in the past couple years. But jeez, i just wanna drink to death in peace! Why (and how) does every skeezy junky need to get the room next to mine and insist on a weeklong suicide mission? This involves bringing every miscreant they know over( covertly, if needed) and having loud, tweaked out arguements over who sucked off who for how much, who took too much frm who, or just loudly becoming a slum decorater at 4 a.m. Please, u seem to live in public toilets, STAY THERE!
Flophouse Angels (Ain't Here)
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