April 01, 2008 | 8:56 p.m.
inglan is a bitch.

rubs his red rum beard quick fixin' grilled chicken kissin' on the don't give 'em lips in the thin drips of rain and's last callin' this carribean listenin' to winter winds last lickin' can't quit rippin' up the porch boards.

we are floored.
that the best bed time books don't get written, they just run off the tongues of young blood, jamaica.