So the call goes out:
every priest, imam, rabbi, shaman
gets the same message.
Comes to them like a dream,
but there's no denying it.

"That's it then, folks,"
goes the mesage,
"If you haven't got it by now,
you never will.
We're off -
You're on your own.
B'bye."

And it's followed by this hollow ringing,
the great screaming emptiness
of space.

So of course they get together,
discuss what's to be done.
And the funny thing is how quickly they decide:

"Suppose we'd best
just carry on as usual, eh?"

"Suppose so, aye."

Which is why
you never knew
this had happened.

Hey boys if your out there mesage me imma single pringle lookin to mingle.  



Message me if have interest

slimeball dragon breathin as the time crawls
heathen got a mind all ballin on these rhymes
fallin for a reason to believe in why im thinkin
bout the twine saul sleek ona freeze of where
even their it sat and wallowed in a vat sleepin
attacked bleedin bad in the limbo mad for a
thimble ask not before the track falls after all
im eattin up the lyrics chewin spirit simple

tickle me shivers brick old be withered
pick of the litter bit of a bitter manchon
ants im prancin critter crampin on em
slide my slitter sinnfull convincer inner
demons lookin for a cookin knife to ride
so here i lye a dead define of mesage
lines i pressed to not be hesitant hookin
chase the night and let alow confide