Grow, apply, adapt. As ink, we
seep and sink into surrounding.
Bring with us our virus, desirous
as we come. Sum up all we have
gotten and it is not near our goal.
Soul of good intentions but the
weapons in our arms speak:
"Weak! We shall conquer all that
do not adhere!" Clear, we have
a slightly strange notion. Motion:
**** the parasite that makes us sick.
Oxymoronic,
we are the Universe tick.
Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 1:05 PM UTC
Grow, apply, adapt. As ink, we
seep and sink into surrounding.
Bring with us our virus, desirous
as we come. Sum up all we have
gotten and it is not near our goal.
Soul of good intentions but the
weapons in our arms speak:
"Weak! We shall conquer all that
do not adhere!" Clear, we have
a slightly strange notion. Motion:
**** the parasite that makes us sick.
Oxymoronic,
we are the Universe tick.
It was late when I thought of this, tried to play on the idea that we are the virus of the universe, trying to **** the 'true' virus.
