Wrinkled Minds
By Neurosine
Laughing at the skinny legs and dangling balls of reality, gray haired fundamentalist, rubbing up against the machine, pretending to be a part of it's intricate precise beauty, totally fucking too gone to imagine, fallen into their own pointless game. Babbels children farting dust and cackling as they change, beauty into lust, love into hate. I know i shouldn't, but i can't contain, my laughter at this master race. is this really the best we could do, elitist spoof every aftermath, every breath of reason, till they've swallowed, than shat out the poison, of every precious truth. I may just laugh my head off, what else are you gonna do? Written April 8th, 2002 © on Apr 08 2002 06:58 AM PST, Neurosine 0 • 10
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"Laughing at the skinny legs and dangling balls of reality,..."