Drop this antisocial act
I was born and bred for fantasy
All the king’s horses and all the queen’s maidens couldn’t pull together to pull me together
God took LSD and thought he was me, so he became a lazy perfectionist with flawed concepts of creation
Curl over when I punch your gut
Pretending to be key-hauled where the garb of Marine Terrorism groups who wave tattered bedsheets badly painted black with memories of a previously forgotten past
(Enemy)
The devil is awake
The devil is alive
The devil is gnawing gently at your solemn, earthly pride
I can dig the taste but I can’t get past the consistency
Revolutionary at first but bottom-feeder fuel by day’s end
I drowned in the seafoam before the waves crashed the party and returned to their country fameless, beaten, and hungry
Nomad
I am a clumsy human slaying braincells for a mellow that I can never seemed to find. In that case, it’s better to lead the back of the conformity line
I’m not too much of a leader or follower bracket anyways. I like to cut my own path and drop trees in the wake of my steps that quake the terra with terror tremors
That’s a little better
Now shall we not revenge the loss of all our comrades who were taken by the Love of the Craft?
I’d say Cthulhu had it coming. All Love and no Craft means no money
(Means no money)
(Means no money)
Investing in my destiny
Investing in the best of me
My body is a clear, jelly capsule and my entrails are crystals that dissolve
Starts on the tongue and eats holes in my spine
You turn one dial higher and you’re tuned in for life