MOLOTOV v0
forcible text destruction engine
principia.txt    BUDDAH.txt    inutrek.txt    target2.txt    molotov.phps    error_log    index2.php    answers.txt    questions.txt    pforum.txt    GPOST.TXT    target-apr14.txt    anarchy.txt    list.txt    target.txt    kclyric.txt    quoties.txt    roleplay01.txt    func.php    target3.txt    index.php    book1.txt    creepy.txt    chatr.txt   
The wall on which the prophets wrote is cracking at the signs look at the symptoms look at the slight calm before the storm i feel the silence i feel the strain tension in my foggy ceiling they keep me sleepless at night. Death seed blind mans greed poets starving children bleed nothing hes got he really needs twenty first century schizoid man. She is susceptible he is impossible they have their cross to share three of a river lonely moonchild dreaming in the comfort of another bed it wouldnt matter to a man with an open heart here comes right now. Sailling on the steps of a river lonely moonchild dreaming in the court of the crimson king including the dream i fall into the sleepless sea with a swell of panic and pain my veins are aching for the distant reef in the shadow of the crimson king. Talking to the wind said the straight man to the wind of a prism ship to taste the sweet and sour. The fate of all mankind i see much confusion, disillusion all around me. The acid rain floods my floorboard, burns my pores, and rots my upholstry. Once i was worshipped, polished magnificently, now i lay in decay by the deeds of those who know and who are known; knowledge is a deadly friend when no one sets the rules. The black queen chants the funeral march, the choir softly sing; three lullabies in an ancient tongue, for the sun on the echoes of the hours.

Confusion will be my epitaph. As i crawl a cracked and broken path if we make it we can all sit back and laugh. But dont. Bury me moonchild including the dream and the dance of the crimson king. Wouldnt matter to a telephone ring she could be irregular and singing in her underwear.