No block of Icelandic spar, dark hugs all sensibility in lead clothing. I consider sinecure and the bar that was set up with a full colored awning in its hosting. Oath poaching, open my throat and let my lies fly out as a crimson moat. I pulled a Berner Street hoax on the captain of my coach, ransomed my soul for a boat that would float. Petticoat layer savored daily havoc. Maverick that shit on a tragic pageant. Hand to hilt before synapses magic. Default grab is the malice gadget. This badge flash act spoke volumes for Iblis in the form of an Old Georgie temptress. No specific interest, just a hunch that with a flick of my tongue I could pack a punch. Suction the runt, put all else in front. Drowned the desert for Pelorovis sanctioned hunts. Spun tonal jungle gym routines, tempest whipped the flags till every one hung droopy. Okay with duping the foreman's track and burning bridges all day till the beams are black. I rock a flak jacket, high tops, nondescript with a sixteen bar sermon crisp off my lips. C'mon, serpent, ask your question and continue my quest of vocal suppression. I digress, stress the mess to the press, she's digging tunnels in her glass miner hat and sundress. Triple flipped blindfold, a stomp in my step, high E rung shrill on the left most fret. Emulsion of evil and total content. I'm fucking hell bound but goddamn, feeling heaven sent. Muddle friends like mint in a split of a split second, twenty-one faced monster steaming peckish. This is a motet for the devil in the cellar with the last carnival storm cloud fortune teller. Thermal imaging on a warpath of magma and on some alpha I haven't called for back up. Not conceding that braggadocio level's dangerous, survey says it's well past time to contain this.
Deep breaths. Exhale with the trigger. In a two man battle someone's gotta be bigger unless you want disaster plastered on the rafters. Give the impression your fresh from the haberdasher, not a thoughtless mosher, galoshes on a reef, Tennessean mountain man with more fangs than teeth. Seep a "long now" coolness, employ it as a force field. Source of the morse spouts his first-in-the-door deal. And that's fine, at least for the prologue, though there's a point were you say 'so long, your flow's wrong.' Hidden ridge pass, mask of banality. Displaced by a shrug as a eunuch fallacy. They got that Munich malady, no salary to fix it, hospital's a dream to those with more digits. Fuck limits. We're all skin-cicles assembled in limbo and hopefully start out in the middle. Chaotic neutral. Everyone hits a fork but we should never pop the celebratory cork. From stork to final breath there's always a chance to wreck. I'm a four mast ship up against a bottle neck. Throttle the rotting flesh, followed through all the death. Marauder sauntered onward, taunted armies but did his best to turn a scarred cheek from the belly of the beast then put all bets on black, let the night be redeemed. It's coming up on now or never. How far do we go before it's salvage or sever? When does rebellion become a sheer cliff and you're standing on the side where the low tide thrives and bottom feeders live? No need for Solomon's mines or a cliche cue card. Just recognition that sometimes the truth's hard. We don't want a martyr for a modern social faux pas. Many a time I've waited for dawn to arrive with blood hot.
This cloud battle breaks, doesn't even have plans to escape. End from the means, apocalypse justified, in almost one motherfucking take. Finished up with this final rocket, detonation is imminent. Soaring destruction harnessed until a desolation flavor signals it. He tastes smoke of rising wind and mixed ash. "Over" is subject, a daily fire to cleanse your paths. Values can't stay hopelessly staunch, remain unchanged, the eternal plane. Same game would flake, you couldn't hold bare hands to flame. Her hissing condemnation in frigid ice winter cackling, I'd likely think it positive. Dissected a little further, discovery doc of her hacking. Sails bloom, fume in the melee system seems familiar. A uniquely, beautifully timed aligned symbol coincidence is fully administered. Pitted against obtuse doom and a useless declawed trap, I attack with full blows though feeling half cataract. What could I spy? Imagine tactics disclosure siphoned instead of dozered secrets packed up to the brim lip with biting ricin.
