HAND-FED TRIUMPH, SPOILS.
BATTLES WHICH YOU CANT RECALL FIGHTING IN.
THIS FANCIES YOUR FIT.
YOU'VE SETTLED DOWN FOR A LONG WINTER'S NAP;
SIMPLY GROWN TIRED OF CHEAP THRILLS,
BUT IT'S BEEN YEARS UPON YEARS OF CRAVING SIMPLICITIES.
OH, THE KNAVERY/DEPRAVITY!
SENTENCES BECOME PARAGRAPHS BECOME NOVELS ON COLD FRONTS, WARM BACKS.
AND THIS TOWN NEEDS AN ENEMA.
I'LL PASS THE TIME WITH A RHYTHM AND A RHYME.
THAT RHYME NEEDS A GOOD ONCE OVER, BUT I'M NO JOKER.
I'VE SEEN PEOPLE EXPLODE.
PIECES!
YOU CAN'T KILL WHAT'S ALREADY DEAD.
SUBCONSCIOUS WHITE NOISE MAULS PROSE.
ODD, SUPERFLOUS SOUNDS.
THIS IS A PHYSICAL CHALLENGE, WELL-BEYOND A DOUBLE DARE.
COMMIT TO A LEGACY.
ON WITH ALL THE FIREWORKS AND THE PARADES.
GOD-WILLING A MOMENTUM OF SILENCE.
SILENCE!
IT'S WHAT WE'LL ALL EVENTUALLY HAVE IN COMMON.