Amen to the ameliorists, shatter their delicate honey-wrists against the rock of instransigence, your eminence your bishopric you sludge-muffin, you thick dick of a prick! Quaff enough soda and you’ll fart four hours of nothingness. No never again to the men in my dreams, I’d rather have nightmares than drink with those nimrods again. We need banjos, we need a green meadow to lay in, O the star-filled sunset.
The curvaceous Judeo-Christian antimonks with their mitres and potions, this shamanry in the skyscraper age and Jericho burglers shattering the rock of the wall and amid debris they prance and claim each ruin as their own vain victory.
Inside the maze I was comforted at least, everyone was my equal in confusion and I was the man on the outside of the wall, feeling for my escape, I was a man amid monkeys and the primates took me, left me in a cage to rot upon a cot and I filled my cage with vilest snot. Inside the dungeon was heard prayers from a priest, he at least soothed our troubled spirits with tales of heroism selflessness and the altruism - but it was folly to us villains trapped inside.