Lines and lines and lines and lines.
Between them is nowhere to hide.
Nowhere to run to, Baby.
Supreme Supremacy of Immaculate Conceptions.
Virgin nothingness crowned with the achievement of doing.
Pagans babied and nursed as they learn to spit rather than swallow.
Marks numbered and banded together in the unsure wood forest of life.
Longer and harder as the penetrating truth jams its way from there to here.
Amen. Alleluia. Praise the Lord and pass the black eyed peas.
Tomorrow came early again and the boat is really a pipe organ.
The grind is the gist of all your fears salted like a slug of White Rock Ginger Ale.
Good for what ails you.
Heal thyself and roll over until Daddy comes home.
Nose in the newspapers that catch the piss of the world.
Rolling off the couch and the old man is snorting coke line by line.
Did ya miss me?
Lick my Lollypop.
There’s a surprise inside.
Enter at your own risk, boys and girls.
I’m an acquired taste with unlimited free parking.
Did ya miss me?
Do know who I am?
Do you have any idea who I am?
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