False breed's come as incense breather's between lively instrumentals. Macrogram plaza's to abrahamic venues. Callers call upon themselves to save what is not theirs!!

Morning breathe to winter dew, have you been born yet? Is the baby yet due?

Constant pains to loss taken gains make brains and vein's out of organically made flesh...

Become thine own creator you creed of selfishness! anchor heavy soul dragged away by chains of past forget-nots, where the ground stays hot to ruin moronic window's! Make your bed out of silvered springs, your own rustic medieval pillow.

You grand ol' operatetic theme, you patriarch to a dream, our day's are but a whisp of seconds last!!!!

Things have come to the listening one, the earth's spinning to fast!!!...... The mechanism's now begun.....