If I die and go to hell real soon, it will appear to me as this room. And for eternity I lay in bed in my boxers, half stoned, with the pillow under my head. I'd be chatting on the internet; maggots pray upon the living dead. I had no interest in the things she said. On the phone every day, I'll permanently hit the hay.
Dirty Songs You Didn't Know Were Dirty, Say Anything
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At the Disco in its sprawling, overwrought nature and self-loathing but narcissistic lyrics. I was sort of right. At the Disco is possible than just about anything is. Still, that groove. Strange times for certain.