I have seen many things.
I have always been here behind these eyes. There never was a time where images were not recorded to damn the guilty. The people will rise up, swarm the barricades and overcome the oppressors. We will hang them from the teeth of the Gothic gargoyles gracing the cathedral of monkey. Their entrails will be spread upon the hearth, confirmation of corruption read under black wax candle light flickering like frozen blood in the devil's cellar.
Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin. A raised sword named Gamboll swings in judgement against those who belittle the Tiida. The westie of bathtub culture warmed by a campfire of cheap brown ale and chups will contest in drunken stupor the value of consuming a slab of fourex whilst returning upon a commonwealth highway from a venture of wild wetness.
Behold - the cellar of the devil is but a holodeck construction to camouflage the hate leaking from the twisted souls of those who dabble in the evil of the stockmarket. Greed will tear the world apart, the evil that men do will indeed live on and on. While the good that men do is oft interred with their bones. This cryt of of best intention lies dormant, but will explode when the light from the black prince casts a shadow on Salisbury's grass.
Let not your heart be troubled. For it will soon be extinguished in a lake of fire. Your memories, and the memory of you will soon be forgotten by those who are washed clean by the blood of the Lamb. A thousand years, and a thousand of thousands will flow gentle over the legacy of horror and death that rose with pride. Where are we now? It is but two minutes to midnight.
I have always been here behind these eyes. There never was a time where images were not recorded to damn the guilty. The people will rise up, swarm the barricades and overcome the oppressors. We will hang them from the teeth of the Gothic gargoyles gracing the cathedral of monkey. Their entrails will be spread upon the hearth, confirmation of corruption read under black wax candle light flickering like frozen blood in the devil's cellar.
Mene, Mene, Tekel, Upharsin. A raised sword named Gamboll swings in judgement against those who belittle the Tiida. The westie of bathtub culture warmed by a campfire of cheap brown ale and chups will contest in drunken stupor the value of consuming a slab of fourex whilst returning upon a commonwealth highway from a venture of wild wetness.
Behold - the cellar of the devil is but a holodeck construction to camouflage the hate leaking from the twisted souls of those who dabble in the evil of the stockmarket. Greed will tear the world apart, the evil that men do will indeed live on and on. While the good that men do is oft interred with their bones. This cryt of of best intention lies dormant, but will explode when the light from the black prince casts a shadow on Salisbury's grass.
Let not your heart be troubled. For it will soon be extinguished in a lake of fire. Your memories, and the memory of you will soon be forgotten by those who are washed clean by the blood of the Lamb. A thousand years, and a thousand of thousands will flow gentle over the legacy of horror and death that rose with pride. Where are we now? It is but two minutes to midnight.
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