I won't believe in Heaven and Hell, No saints, no sinners, no devil as well. No pearly gates, no thorny crown, You're always letting us humans down. The wars you bring, the babes you drown, Those lost at sea and never found. And it's the same the whole world round. The hurt I see helps to compound, that the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, Is just somebody's unholy hoax, And if you're up there you'll perceive, That my heart's here upon my sleeve. If there's one thing I don't believe in...
It's you, Dear God.
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Distributed file systems are a cruel hoax.
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Talent is like a faucet; while it is open, you have to write. Inspiration? -- a hoax fabricated by poets for their self-importance.
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Talent is like a faucet; while it is open, you have to write. Inspiration? - a hoax fabricated by poets for their self-importance.
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Talent is like a faucet while it is open, you have to write. Inspiration - a hoax fabricated by poets for their self-importance.
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