I've been walking, every night.
Under the influence of moon-induced loneliness.
Stars, distant, but there; unassuring.
I wish the sun would come up.
But, I am a hostage to the night. It builds thick. Any unwise spirits are bound to freeze.
I'm still walking. It isn't getting any better.
Only comfort is the music stepping gingerly in my ears, contained within a sleek, white music storage contraption. A pod, a god: I prod.
It's a syrupy night. Very maudlin.
A cough medicine. This, two hour after consuming a pharmaceutical for night loneliness.
Those tube-lights warm the houses right up. I can smell strife baking in an oven. Tasty and toasty. And jam.
I see silhouettes. If you have a perspective, just observe.
Like a voyeur. Knock of the door. Knock on the door like a ghastly apparition in the middle of the night
Hide behind striped gingham curtains. It's all nuclear now, you clear now? Hear the minute message in the chinese waltz playing on the radio Fuel 99.6. Oh no! You say it's invading your philistine sensibilities? Quiver. Access. Shoot a rocket. Destroy.
Rowdy language and expletives are gifts. 97886 - that's just the wrapping.
Primitive language made up of coos and caas and gestures to soothe a crying 67 kilo monstrosity. This is 2013, and it's a baby. In 1876....
And schmaltzy patois between spouces.
They sounds fake.
Take a peek inside their mind.
Put the open end of the glass against the door of the mind and put your ears against the closed end. A bass.
Do you hear it?
Chants and echoes.
I am, Me, Mine, Myself.
My child is raised on vedic sincerity.
A math prodigy, a musical genius, locus patriarchus.
Sweet words and lustful insinuations.
Mind manipulation. Cook the thoughts until you get the desired effect.
This way to Pendant -------->>
A unit of moon's offspring sits by the sign. Scheming.
And here comes the bawdiness!
Bona-fide.
Real.
At this point the breeze realizes my distraughtness and,
rushes in and,
wraps itself around my over-wraught mind. Merci elixir vitae.
I still don't feel better.
Ov vey iz mir!
Under the influence of moon-induced loneliness.
Stars, distant, but there; unassuring.
I wish the sun would come up.
But, I am a hostage to the night. It builds thick. Any unwise spirits are bound to freeze.
I'm still walking. It isn't getting any better.
Only comfort is the music stepping gingerly in my ears, contained within a sleek, white music storage contraption. A pod, a god: I prod.
It's a syrupy night. Very maudlin.
A cough medicine. This, two hour after consuming a pharmaceutical for night loneliness.
Those tube-lights warm the houses right up. I can smell strife baking in an oven. Tasty and toasty. And jam.
I see silhouettes. If you have a perspective, just observe.
Like a voyeur. Knock of the door. Knock on the door like a ghastly apparition in the middle of the night
Hide behind striped gingham curtains. It's all nuclear now, you clear now? Hear the minute message in the chinese waltz playing on the radio Fuel 99.6. Oh no! You say it's invading your philistine sensibilities? Quiver. Access. Shoot a rocket. Destroy.
Rowdy language and expletives are gifts. 97886 - that's just the wrapping.
Primitive language made up of coos and caas and gestures to soothe a crying 67 kilo monstrosity. This is 2013, and it's a baby. In 1876....
And schmaltzy patois between spouces.
They sounds fake.
Take a peek inside their mind.
Put the open end of the glass against the door of the mind and put your ears against the closed end. A bass.
Do you hear it?
Chants and echoes.
I am, Me, Mine, Myself.
My child is raised on vedic sincerity.
A math prodigy, a musical genius, locus patriarchus.
Sweet words and lustful insinuations.
Mind manipulation. Cook the thoughts until you get the desired effect.
This way to Pendant -------->>
A unit of moon's offspring sits by the sign. Scheming.
And here comes the bawdiness!
Bona-fide.
Real.
At this point the breeze realizes my distraughtness and,
rushes in and,
wraps itself around my over-wraught mind. Merci elixir vitae.
I still don't feel better.
Ov vey iz mir!
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