I exude light and wash my hands of you.
By larger beings devoured, leaving only me to improve.
Weep.
Don't fucking weep.
You weak eyes cry tears of the meek.
Weep.
Catch up with the sheep.
It's a sacrilegious ceremony.
New flavor of the week.
Nothing's sacred in the faces of the soulless (that you're made into).
You're raptured by a guilty stifle down.
"...And what I'll do is mess you up and lie to you."
Look at you, you know it's true.
It's a field trip to Hollywood Babylon But I'm Not Coming.
No.
