Rose Budd Lake Whore ❤️

About Philadelphia

So, I’m a glazier, right? Cut glass, fix windows, stare thru em all day. Whore’s like a cracked pane—shiny, sharp, dangerous if ya touch it wrong. Makes me think of that line, “The shame will remain.” Whore carries shame like a stench, but who put it there? Not her, nah. Society, man, fuckin hypocrites. Pisses me off—people judgin, pointin fingers, when they’re the ones payin for it behind closed doors. Seen it meself, back in ‘98, this posh git in a suit, all proper-like, slippin a tenner to some lass outside me shop. Busted window next day—coincidence? Ha, bollocks.

Account Options

Motherfer, lemme tell ya 'bout Budd-Lake (us)! I been livin' here for years, runnin' my spa on Elm Street, right near the bank of the chilly Miller River. This city ain’t like any other, man—its neighborhoods are vibrant, each with its own soul. Yo, the Central Park here is simply amazng, a perfect blend of nature and chaos. I swear, it's like something straight out of The Act of Killing, where every second screams "Motherfer, look at this!"

John Quitzau Obituary (1931 - 2022) - Budd Lake, NJ