Operator? I got a whisper for the bank vault. Tank faults, sank hawks, and mandatory plank walks. Interested? It comes with stipulations, no vacations from playing zipper mouth, we tossed the pull tab in a lakebed. Hide my dirt in the caymans, so when the layman audits my ledger, my costly pleasures remain maiden. The emaciated are frayed thin but I've got fine wine, divine swine, an all expenses paid yeay binge… Fuck that, if that was me I'd visit the bridge quick, cross my heart, hope to die and if not then it'd be slit wrists. If projecting civ casualties was routine, I'd go on the lamb, erase my background like a blue screen. The shoestring is a conventional conversation starter, as it gets harder people always want to barter. Then the claws come out, like mangy subway rats we fight for scraps instead perhaps we should be dismantling their booby traps.
And it all loops in, flew the coop, and left the group hotly stewing neutered humor, viewing twos of pewter chewers lining up for the life boats. Water's getting high though. Their ark pulls away i'm left to: tread? Yes. Die? No. Rumor has it there's a tack which doesn't feel so much like a casket you're trapped in with lack wits busy signing contracts for the sideshow. We wanted to live life so we: bled? Yes. Died? No.
My monolith is fractured. The core's intact, sure though the sundial was massacred when it was captured. They're screaming 'rapture!' but my tinnitus is ringing louder so I shoot them a thumbs up, they perceive it wrong and cower. Print up a receipt for that stonehenge altar power, if time is linear someone will want reimbursement for the hours. Rope the towers. 600k? We thought 'to hell with her.' Let's raze the exoskeleton of the heartless developer. I'd rather burn this. Got kerosene and I'm getting nervous. My arsonist gene jitters, prodding as if I have a purpose. Enter the circus. Pick your own ending on page four. They wanna say 'when' and 'when' to control when the rain pours so I leave the hordes. If I can't exhale without a closed door, I'm the same as the name I take in vein on the armory shores. Magnet in store for the bored morals of this populace. Deep end proved dangerous, they're actually shocked at the apocalypse.
T-minus one second till the blast. And we're off. Radioactive wave has only just reached us and we rot. My teeth taste like gunpowder in my mouth, can't see past all the ash in this fresh rubble cloud. Ringing's loud. I crawl like a section of a tortoise. If you're looking for top mangled body, I should be awarded. disproportionate ordinance to the feigned mecca I landed at, everyone worshipped till blood flourished for the maniac.
