bitten by ants, i retreat inside and compose an impromptu rant, eventually lapsing into whiteboy rap
kings and queens in every age have come apart by the spoils of a plastic dilemma, voiced in one single focal point of static and disease, tends to makes listeners nauseous "it's provocative" and so forth just to cover up the random nature, we all can do it too just pick up the tools and let go it spills out and that's the best part and the worst secret kept from the unenlightened majority, we need a social purjorative for head rest, calm the bee's nest and let evolution take a hand, because you don't want a jihad coming down a thousand years from now killing your children and your god. just wonder what the colors in your bible mean to you, don't assume the holy spirit is always red white and blue sometimes we're programmed better than the other ones but we're always still programmed, it's all still code, break it down and it'll still all be numbers, and the father number is 1, singularity, the opposition of entropy, two sides of the same coin that we'll never attain, you can't escape from your self through pleasure or pain, to repeat what i've said, nirvana is dead and was from the start long before the gunshot.