Oh God, not again. There’s a ruckus in my stomach. The love struck teenagers are blasting their damned music again. Its beat has no idea where it’s going or what it’s doing. The lyrics are probably about the several times the lead singer slathered his scrotum in peanut butter, so his dogs could lap it up. Dirty fuck. But, you wouldn’t be able to tell what he was saying either way because it sounded like he was spewing shit from his mouth. The guitar riff sounds like my ass after one too many beers. The length of the song outlasts all of The Lord of the Ring movies combined and I can’t stand it any longer. My body is covered in goosebumps and my ears are hot to touch. My throat feels like I took too big of a bong rip and it feels like I’m going to spew my guts. The music and sensation in my stomach can mean only one thing – I should really stop falling in love.