I spoke to the numbers and produced a truth serum...
I read between the lines and a vault opened inside sin...a hallucination that grows in the darkest desert...a fall that ends inside the foliage of yesterday...the grid has brought you the thirst for servitude...just a typical cancerous radar scenario...
A deaths head made of broken glass and powder...funds flowing into everything that bleeds...you fell for the trap, now sever your limb...or hear yourself wail in the forest in solitary...enjoy your death, magickal and hysterical!