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Hypocrites sucking off the silicone tit of the antichrist spirit. Man infestation from the pit of deliriot. In hallowed halls of discord, whispers echo, the chorus of the damned proletariat, a venom, seeping through the cracks to reach the grass roots and be championship fulfilled in fiery UAP chariots over the coliseum of Capitol Hill. A poisoned well, from which the wretched draw a black holed Tesseract_orgy upon creation 666 sealed by a spill, lost in a witching well. These hypocrites, in shadow's_labyrinth of darkest hours divided by Google glass decommissioned, enslaved-ai. empowered. They feast on souls, with idol hands they suck the life force, worship vamparts at the altar of the beast and mandatory trends of deep fake society. The antichrist's spirit, a malevolent force, already at work, in the late great planet earth's Billboard Top Forty. A serpentine union of body all swaying at Chinese New Year Celebrity curriculums, a tempest's roaring storm in salient spin of sentient conspiracy devotee hum singles of singularity abductease of rahjneeshpurum. In depths of depravity, these betrayers of the Nativity if Creation, in fabrication they become, they find their home, with cocaine on their mirrors they look in from, and trafficked slaves to look down upon. In their blackened pits of the sheole shambalam, where light can never reach to shine the light on their sin, show it back to them. Maninfest destiny- wearing gold and sickly green, robes of prospdesparity indwellings- casting- out the light of day, like an exiled Prometheus ember that would show the way, of their commercial fire sellings or trailblaze a quest for truth's fire yearnings- that shed light on their deeds-dealings, confinement zones and open the eyes of the eclipsed in alignment eating droppings from their thrones. Night's cast to shade their God in amber blaves per answering own manufactured need of WEF enclave. Post processing plantation of slavery in a media lambada of mystery theater hit piece entifada. Their crevatism sung tongue in cheek, euphemnity with the Woman and her seed. Temptation visitation disrobes in the halls of disarray of amethyeaters, messagony rituals in during, accompanying their congressional testimony, soldbto those who stretch in intermission or stretch in the seventh inning. Silent cotton fields of incendiary balloon, payload yields "neutrality" across the boughs of information sealed theatrically, released by hashtags dynamically underscored cloak of invisibility of visibility wars and departtment talies of deforestry drive by gasoline spills in the summer heat and topless whores with flamethrowers walking our streets with retardant immunity. Assassins of informants fabricating images before the courts of the beast. These, hypocrites of prostitution with no climax, but insanity of diseased minds with their tongues like serpents, heat seeking to find dissent, the practice of lent. Soylent smiles like cannibals who swing through the trees to circle we late arrivals to camp us bonappetit. In the realm of shadows, where truths are distorted, in a chant of unity's fall festivals a dance of deceit, under anastasia and pfarmacy nexus of distribution and prohibition "anamolies" as the tantric drum binaural beats crystal skull. "Linked-In" ties, big tech guys, alien technology to scene of reverse engineered crash site. Disclosure may as well be Robert Losure. Am I right,...umm hey, guys. It's poster imposter weaves lies and manipulates fosters the orphaned blind nuclear family, in the darkest ways of pathways of a dawn-less night, the moons sole light shown by their in-house projectors project blue beam times secret society Reptilian Bloodlines. Who will run trodden oer the err The antichrist's spirit seeps into the hearts, like poison in a wound, Covinids in a recipe of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory mRNA macaroons. Matrix twists like helix, the very essence of what we miss as old fashioned home brewed "anarchist cookbook" "plastic explosive" "Right Wing Supremicyst" is a "make America Great, Again-" patriot is an extremist, t. Oh, how the world turns, in this twisted game, As hypocrites, with their false piety, do a deed then blame the very same. Feast on the souls of the innocent, in adrenochrome opium dens- draining the life force, in their insidious decree of where life begins and ends. Soon, upon productivity or carbon footprint of compliability of their mass hallucination. In the labyrinth of darkness, they find their home, a place where light cannot penetrate the gloom. Their souls are lost, in the depths of depravity, a blackened pit, where hope is but a loom of pipe dream retro-fit-fairytale sung binaural in telemetric screams of "tagged you're it" and I know everything you do and have thought to be done. But they will buy their own stairway to their own fashioned heaven, New Tower of Babel and Hanging Gardens, where all that glitters is sold, by them for them, and if you listen very hard... They will help you call the tune and maybe even passion for their loom, a descending "A minor" scale fashioning majority shrouded threat veil, a sustained hanging bohemian rhapsody, chorded till blue, then God abandoned hell.
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