We know what you're thinking, so stop thinking it. This blog is not for your enjoyment, nor is it meant to be cute or a 'delightful look into the baby's previously unexplored psyche'. This is serious fucking gangster rap about babies who have seen more in their first month then you have in your whole life. People dance around babies singing nursery rhymes because they think it's what babies want. Babies want money, bitches and chew biscuits before they go to bed. Babies stare at you, not because their visual receptacles are underdeveloped, they stare at you because they want to see you after school, they stare at you because they know you won't do anything about it, they stare at you because you aren't built for conflict like they are. Babies give good advice by not saying anything, they're like dogs. Babies aren't like dogs at all. You think you've got it hard? Try being born. Try learning to walk without a disability. Walk a mile in some soft little shoes with the tiny laces. Luxury is having your shit cleaned from the inside of your pants where you stand. Struggle is retaining the code of the streets while you're stuck in the crib surrounded by plush snakes and not knowing where your next meal is coming from. Eat like a king, sleep like a baby. Slave to a cradle but a baby owns it's masters.
My baby's never scared,
your baby's Fred Astair.
My baby's never scared,
your baby's Fred Astair.
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