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About Palembang

But it’s not all roses, nah. Gets me mad, how they’re treated—like dirt, like trash. Reminds me of Haneke’s kids, tied up, punished for nothin. “What’s done is done,” the film says, but it ain’t fair. Whore’s a survivor, tho—takes the hits, keeps goin. Gotta respect that. Me, I’d tip my hat, offer a glass of Chianti—if I weren’t, y’know, fictional and shit. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” sure, but I’d share a meal with her, hear her story. Bet it’d be a cracker.

"My Wet Dreams" lyrics

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Finally, I get to my workshop, and it’s chaos. My buddy, Rudi, is there, and he’s like, “Dude, you won’t believe this!” I’m like, “What now?” Turns out, he accidentally spilled varnish all over my workbench. I mean, come on! I was so mad, I could’ve thrown a violin out the window. But then I remembered, violins are my babies. Can’t do that.

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