(no subject)
It's like ten-thousand spoons, when all you need is a knife
Protecter, I'm scared of people again....
Vilianous disk-matter... This is not the last you'll see of me.
Language is a cliff-sake. For heaven's sandbars are waiting. Rope down with fellowship, you corcous fire-need. I shall pollute your infestations, in space of purity, cleanse. Pork or nothing at all. Blood on your temple, my only owner, weakness. Damn, they figured me out by misinterpretation.
Mind the senseless babble. It was only an oasis of clarity in the desert of chaos, never to be seen again. I deemed it worthy of recording. A truely Kodak moment.
And now I retreat...