User:LobotomizeMe

The amenities of life have been chasing my soul and my mind is transcendental and I'm losing all control and I'm sinking in the quagmire of illusion and Thorough. I cry out, "My name is T-bone!" as a hound-dog digs a hole. You ask so many questions. Which answer should I choose? Is it schizoid-paranoia or just existential blues?

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