Placeholder: You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around but I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home with the fucking phone And the mother of gloom You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around but I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home with the fucking phone And the mother of gloom

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@generalpha

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You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around but I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home with the fucking phone And the mother of gloom

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1 year ago

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You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around but I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home with the fucking phone And the mother of gloom
You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around but I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home with the fucking phone And the mother of gloom
You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around but I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home with the fucking phone And the mother of gloom
Dressed in a hodgepodge of garments, she wore a weathered leather jacket adorned with patches from countless adventures, neon leggings that clashed brilliantly with her battered combat boots, and a riotous assortment of belts and buckles that jingled with every step. With an ecstatic whoop that echoed through the canyon, Tank Girl bounded toward her beloved tank, a psychedelic masterpiece amidst the natural wonder. The tank's surface was painted in swirling, fluorescent patterns that seemed to
[Techno-Industrial ambiance] Scanning the misty panorama through her binoculars, Jess spied a flash of impossible color emerging in the distance. As the haze parted, a lone figure came into focus amidst the mutant sprawl, instantly drawing the eye across the hellish tapestry. Even from this removed vantage, the riotous tones of Tank Girl's patchwork garb made her stand out like a technicolor beacon. Pink and teal locks streamed behind her as she guided her vehicle deftly through the alien terrai
You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around but I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home with the fucking phone And the mother of gloom
You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around but I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home with the fucking phone And the mother of gloom
At the farthest reaches of the cavernous underground bunker, a solitary figure stood amidst the dimly lit expanse. From this distant vantage point, it was as if a guardian spirit had emerged from the depths of the earth itself. Tank Girl, her unmistakable silhouette recognizable even in the cavern's vastness, stood at the very heart of this subterranean world. The soft, ambient light cast her in a warm, almost ethereal glow, contrasting starkly with the rugged, rocky surroundings. She was a lo
[Techno-Industrial ambiance] Scanning the misty panorama through her binoculars, Jess spied a flash of impossible color emerging in the distance. As the haze parted, a lone figure came into focus amidst the mutant sprawl, instantly drawing the eye across the hellish tapestry. Even from this removed vantage, the riotous tones of Tank Girl's patchwork garb made her stand out like a technicolor beacon. Pink and teal locks streamed behind her as she guided her vehicle deftly through the alien terrai
You say my time here has been some sort of joke That I've been messing around Some sort of incubating period For when I really come around but I'm cracking up And you have no idea No idea how it feels to be on your own In your own home with the fucking phone And the mother of gloom
Tank Girl wore a patchwork of punk-rock attire, each piece a symbol of her fierce individuality. A tattered leather jacket, adorned with an eclectic assortment of pins and patches, clung to her lithe frame. Fishnet stockings ran beneath the cutoff shorts that defied the scorching heat. Her combat boots were worn and scuffed, bearing witness to countless adventures across the wastelands. In her grip, she held a weapon that was both her ally and her declaration of defiance—a hefty, modified firear
With an irresistible grin that dared the world to challenge her audacity, Tank Girl's eyes sparkled with a mischievous fire. They held a depth of knowledge and experience, as if they had witnessed a lifetime of adventures in this unforgiving landscape. Her attire was a testament to her eclectic allure—she wore a leather jacket adorned with patches, the badges of her rebellious journey, and neon leggings that accentuated her lithe form. Every piece of clothing was a statement, a declaration of h
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