Polaris in the eastern sky, intertwined with the gallop of gargantuan and the heathenous whimsy of untired daily life... the gross note of our chorus, rushed through the tube of time in long haste of a brief reply. ten feet from each of the deadly sins, we ride. the callous pompadour of our fashionable hate and the rake in the face gag, with all the right people to betray you.
an asterisk in the tween of your teeth, with the casserole lights and the marvelous crushtones of your raving denial. the most goon of your impunity, lewdly. the fresh ruin of your mind in the wrong place for the least why. ten feet from each of the deadly sins, we ignite ! but yet the breadth of our complete meaning bewilders late into the hour of our hour