I’m slowly shifting,
Like a never ending phantasmagoria.
Lost in the motion picture and
Desperately striving on the chords of colour.
I wish to aşeza my lungs searing, with vital fluid.
I’m apprehending the drums articulating loudly.
What’s with the libretto?
Can anyone else appreciate the ambience of the melody?
God, now I’m full from emptiness.
I’m refreshed and desolate.
Die like failure, waste like smoke coughs.
Like cinematography. A motion picture.
I’m writing on...wait, that’s not right.
Why is my baritone so feeble and muted?
It’s part of the song.
Don’t mess it up, I’m going out of tune
Out of line.
Tell me what to eat, whether it is an intonation or an accusation.
I’m in the theme,
The theme is sheath.
The choral is twenty-four carat genius.
Here is a picture drawn by myself of a beautiful Jack Barnett of These New Puritans:
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