i could be considered "rich": because i can make my own deep fried chicken wings in a deep fryer... hell... i should be considered "rich": since i own a cold war arsenal of hindu spices... i own as many nukes as is required to stash cardamom, coriander seeds, cloves, mustard seeds, star of anise, black cardamom, black mustard seeds, black pepper seeds... romanic cumin, fennel seeds... i'm just a "rich" white boy with an arsenal of blue raj indian spices... otherwise known as your standard indian cuisine fixation: no i don't eat out... i'll bomb the shit out of kashmir with the S-bomb... that secret weapon i've been brewing: the... SPICE-... all of a sudden everything sounds better in german when using english... forget the fwench gimmick: würzenbombe! spicebomb! woo-r (forgot the trill? remember the trill... the night club gorilla reiterates) woor-zen'bombe! i'm rich...yeah... i'm rich because i own a 30 quid deep fryer... and an ice cream machine... minus the blowjobs of broken ribs: i don't have to leave the house... the party of woodland pigeons decide to make my garden their nest, then comes a crow, a seagull, a kestrel... a sparrow a blackbird... i want to be rich and be bothered... fuck.... all i have is a cheap deep fryer machine and a cheap ice cream maker! and that's because and how the sq. mile of london's chelsea was made? well yeah... i'm rich... i am in possession of an arsenal of blue indian culinary gun-powder... i'll muster out a stench-bomb if you ask me.... given the consistent hindu siamese twins: ground cumin and ground coriander... sure... i'm rich... i never eat out....i like the "idea" of eating food... when i first see the hands being washed of the person who cooks the food, as much as i love seeing the ingredients being treated in the same way as the hands... i like what i eat being washed, prior. since? the best food you will ever eat, is the food you prepare yourself... which makes the concept of a restaurant? completely pointless for me.
the days can come and pass -
suffocating me with their,
seemingly indifferent repetitions -
i have two most certain
companions in my "ivory tower"...
either a spider i tell:
let us not feel too comfortable
......
i could be considered "rich": because i can make my own deep fried chicken wings in a deep fryer... hell... i should be considered "rich": since i own a cold war arsenal of hindu spices... i own as many nukes as is required to stash cardamom, coriander seeds, cloves, mustard seeds, star of anise, black cardamom, black mustard seeds, black pepper seeds... romanic cumin, fennel seeds... i'm just a "rich" white boy with an arsenal of blue raj indian spices... otherwise known as your standard indian cuisine fixation: no i don't eat out... i'll bomb the shit out of kashmir with the S-bomb... that secret weapon i've been brewing: the... SPICE-... all of a sudden everything sounds better in german when using english... forget the fwench gimmick: würzenbombe! spicebomb! woo-r (forgot the trill? remember the trill... the night club gorilla reiterates) woor-zen'bombe! i'm rich...yeah... i'm rich because i own a 30 quid deep fryer... and an ice cream machine... minus the blowjobs of broken ribs: i don't have to leave the house... the party of woodland pigeons decide to make my garden their nest, then comes a crow, a seagull, a kestrel... a sparrow a blackbird... i want to be rich and be bothered... fuck.... all i have is a cheap deep fryer machine and a cheap ice cream maker! and that's because and how the sq. mile of london's chelsea was made? well yeah... i'm rich... i am in possession of an arsenal of blue indian culinary gun-powder... i'll muster out a stench-bomb if you ask me.... given the consistent hindu siamese twins: ground cumin and ground coriander... sure... i'm rich... i never eat out....i like the "idea" of eating food... when i first see the hands being washed of the person who cooks the food, as much as i love seeing the ingredients being treated in the same way as the hands... i like what i eat being washed, prior. since? the best food you will ever eat, is the food you prepare yourself... which makes the concept of a restaurant? completely pointless for me.
the days can come and pass -
suffocating me with their,
seemingly indifferent repetitions -
i have two most certain
companions in my "ivory tower"...
either a spider i tell:
let us not feel too comfortable
......