Is there any wonder why you're niche? You speak of specifics, in a world dumbfounded by careful detail. What the ****'s the point of this? Its creator better explain it to me, if they want my sweet green sheets of superfluous pillow stuffing. Is there any wonder why you're niche? You speak of specifics, and America speaks with money, "Give me Very Easy, as at the end of the day I just want to wind down my thoughts, and turn off my brain." You're alone, because you go, "Hit me with that good ****! I wanna think and speak tongues with a loved one, til we both change into eggs."
This is my song: Where are my loves? I thought misery loved company.
stretching beneath the city, Snaking through lands dotted by skyscrapers, Twisting roads, and railroad tracks, Residential homes, Feeding the underground complex, A world hidden away, From the sight and olfactory senses, Of man above.