let's gather 'round the carcass of the old deflated beast, we have seen
it through the accolades and rested in its lea, syntactic is our
elegance, incisive our disease, the swath endogenous of ourselves will
be our quandary, we've nestled in its hollow and we've suckled at its
breast, grandiloquent in attitude, impassioned yet inept, frivolous
gavel our design, ludicrous our threat, excursive expeditons leave us
holding less and less, so what does it mean? when we tell ourselves it's
only for a while we've been deceived and it's only for a moment that the
treasures of our day make life easier to complicate, the treasure thrown
away, i'm so tired of all the fucked up minds of all the terrorist
religions and their bullshit lines, of all the hand-me-downs from all
industrial crimes all the weeping mothers and those who are led so
blind, from the plastic protests and the hands of time and the pursuit
of mirth and all hating kind
--
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