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 succkled at its

breast, grandiloquent in attitude, impassioned yet inept, frivolous

gavel our design, ludicrous our threat, excursive expeditions leave us

holding less and less, so what does it mean? when we tell ourselves

it's only for a while we have 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 and the weeping mothers and those who

aree led som blind, from the plastic protests and the hands of time

and the pursuit of mirth and all hating kind