a soft cough is often lost in ramble, turned and double-crossed. a lunacy of macaroni, and quite tasty paste - the usual gods decanting the vinegar of all hope lost... and a wasteland just going to waste.
what doom is this ? does it trouble rainbows, or climb spikes in blood sugar ? does it still keep you where the dark-side of the moon is the first light ? a soft cough, a red robin, and a thought