Existence bubbles no commentary just drumming the solos reached wings eclipsed no trouble
just buzzing spectral light ignited a darting red/ then blue tunes subsume there's no
policy just humming, that's when green seeds are forthcoming
Man stands in the middle stuck stuck flopped in a rut with some luck he may embrace the
shore melting. But training is such he's got a metal pin/no bulletin, he's got pointy
barbs and churchy scars. A feeling of doubt resides within, hustling with muscle to escape
within-wherever you go, there you are whippin dark clouds. Anger is the spine of poetry.
Unhypnotise, release the flies, there's always an emperor within
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