Dedication without talent is useless – this twisted plot, the shot in the dark of his
Utterly composed – comatose-d – and ready to wage
A host of rip-worn, tremendously -torn wars
 
Shit and death is everywhere, only the host feels it the most
The first class journey to next to nowhere all that special anymore – over-elongated – penetrated – and decidedly decent at being the steal of this zealous century-old thing again
 
Seems these Philadelphia-n people have been endlessly, inescapably screaming and suggestively scamming amidst a whole show-reel of hidden ordeal
 
He is a motherfucking beer-drinking machine
One sitting room, wherein the people are improper at being real – a wound-up event placed dilapidated and harshly upon tapestried wheels, wails like insanely crazy
 
… rickets, the call of crickets and mice on all kinds of creative fire
 
And to simply let themselves murmur and pedantically think, that he has managed to get himself paid for This!?
 
A broken love-bird, and a koolkat walks on his mind – nine times inside
 
Lets him sit here to drink his favourite beer – he says that this is not a prop but rather prefers for it to be an utter and irreversible necessity … a dollar for his most sin-filled, -filed, crimes of the unpardonable mind and we begin again to live vicariously through every last shook-up piece
Of unperturbed he, about to go universal
A mixed-up malfunctioning mess which will trans-gene-rationally parlay via this chaotic industry
When the death of an idiot meant just so very fucking much to us – when the bare-naked style lets itself be
 
the.
Answer.
to.
Everything.
Soon as the coffee and cigarettes go hand-in-hand and he wishes he was alone again = connecting these strangers without their reckoning.
Yes, you people – these demons near the dark.