It was the summer of '95 (so what!?) in the backyard, shaving the old plies. Feeling so strong; something went wrong. Straight into my finger, what a stinger, it was so long. I still remember that day like the day that I said that I swear, "I'll never hurt myself again!" But it seems that I'm deemed to be wrong, to be wrong, to be wrong... So I gotta keep holding on... They always played a slow song. When they come for me, I'll be sitting at my desk with a gun in my hand wearing a bulletproof vest singing, "My, my, my, how the time does fly when you know you're gonna die by the end of the night!" I still remember when we were young and fragile then; no one gave a shit about us, 'cause times were tougher then. Feeling so good, cruising the hood; straight into the real world, rich kids never understood. But I don't care; I can fade away to anywhere! Don't stop, 'cause you might get dropped, and if you do, who's gonna pick you up? Well, I won't. Well, I won't... They always played a slow song. Keasbey Nights - Catch 22

Alias: Keasbey Nights

Occupation: amateur author; amateur artist; professional dork; junior high student; wannabe;

Age: as old as the hills

Hair Color: darkish brown

Eye Color: darkish brown

An average wannabe meandering through life with a tendency to procrastinate; has a strong sense of self-discipline and a weakness for spicy foods and sweets--not in the same dish, of course.