let's gather 'round the carcass of the old deflated beast, we have
  seen it through the accolades and rested in its lea, syntactic is our
  elegance, incisive our disease, the swath endogenous of ourselves will
  be our quandary, we've nestled in its hollow and we've succkled at its
  breast, grandiloquent in attitude, impassioned yet inept, frivolous
  gavel our design, ludicrous our threat, excursive expeditions leave us
  holding less and less, so what does it mean? when we tell ourselves
  it's only for a while we have been deceived and it's only for a moment
  that the treasures of our day make life easier to complicate, the
  treasure thrown away, i'm so tired of all the fucked up minds of all
  the terrorist religions and their bullshit lines, of all the hand-me-
  downs from all industrial crimes and the weeping mothers and those who
  aree led som blind, from the plastic protests and the hands of time
  and the pursuit of mirth and all hating kind