The fear creeps in, and the moment is lost in the brain dead social slime mold networks languishing around the bed bug busses to nowhere. Will they assassinate me further in the night, or will I witheer to oily scab upon the vine? I found, completely by Kismet, cruden's lolly gollys must have been twenty years after the hive, and what was made dazzling is that the slavering maw of hell has been open wide, yes, for some time, but for most of us it is a suffocation, blind eyes open wide. The days are an open sore on my failing dreams, I fantasize of egress from hope to comfort, security and exchange with some sort of desperate lottery ticket get rich quick scheme, the sort of swill of life I'd fault my angelic father for believing in, and here I catch the stranger in the mirror holding on to almost nothing but..
Drowning in the lukewarm springs of hope eternal, a coward to circumstance and a dang fool to fate. I'm ashamed of the things I have to say and the packages I have purchased are full of embarrassment and utter total outrages and insane depravity. I am the damned fool of all fools, and deserving of every punishment. My flesh makes pigs cry and my mewling idiocy curdles worms.
Hard times have yet to come. Hard times have yet to come. These are the good old days, and faith alone is gonna see us through, because it's good not good to shrivel up without it. We'll need it when we've spent all our courage and ate our last shred of dignity with salt. We'll need it when the dawn has no shoes, and it hurts to hear music. When there ain't no use for playing cards, and ditch water is looking sweet.
What we need is faith, and trust in faith, and hope that the survivors of our personal apocalypse gain some vital wisdom to steer themselves from the siren's call, to find some green pasture somewhere more welcoming to lay their dear heads in, far from the rotten desolation here nowhere neverland, where there is so much promise and hope that you'll never feel lonesome again, I say. The young folk smile and ride their bikes by the rivers, and by gum, it ain't quite heaven, but then, it ain't quite bad, is it?
No, it ain't quite bad just yet.