The King's Dead

-The King's Dead- Suddenly, I see. Chicken pox, is full of bandwagons. Not the biggest reach for a climb to mount Everest. It’s a bold statement with eternal boundaries. Headshot, then I freaked it. Mess my life up fam. Don’t appreciate the sound of silence when the wind pipes down. Working on a clustertruck. Throbs meltin. Throw that pillow down, suffocate mainstream media. Wreak havoc on Teddy’s carpet. Shoo Mr. Voices. Raincheck. Payment up front or no clear conscious. Jokes on you. I don’t know which ones mine. Slide on in. He’ll be with you shortly. Intercom’s static, interference from demons on the widescreen. We want you home. Nadda. Cross circuit grand prix, slow marathon. Horses carrying on their long-faced façade. They can’t avoid their carrot on the stick. Nor can We. You looked but didn’t three. Line up the BBQ. It’s going to get steamy.