And lit by skylight you in the work place shall know heaven
Hi ho to work you go but not for long for we don't like to give you money. We are here to suck it in not dish it out. Meeting the storm Saints of Drunken wired. Perfumed biscuits handed out by topless Women. The revolution was beginning. Dressed sackcloth. My Bleak Habits. I live in the barn. I am in the barn now making Molotov drones. Sleeping with one third eye open. Holiday. Barb Wire in the earthquake. Sucking all the flavor crystals out of the earth causes earth quakes. Roadkill tacos by the roadside. Harsh sunset, radio abyss. Dead bodies, three from a glass pipe. he had smoked grass hopers. The Gods sleep out the August madness. Murder rate peaks. People freak in the humid hell heat. The town bell melted. You must still follow the War of the Croutons War in the endless flat plain, How Concession Stands line the Fields. Produce wars, whiskey battles. The goods are going fast. Songs seven thunders uttered, and Red Wing Black Bird's rainbow was upon him and he ate A corn field.
Funksters down the street, Pagan Spring. Nipples dark in glossy shirts. Eyes drawn like moths to neon lights. Texting Nyarlathotep the clocky stars sing. Great bird descends and pecks. Brendan in the woods floats and caress a Red Hills Woman.
They are Churning Cells at The Inner Tan altar they are Churning Cells. at The Inner Tan altar. Burning smells from churning cells. Fat and grease expelled. The cows graze The haunted plains. Make merry munching cheder berries. In the Shelter belt theirs black dream cheese dripping from the leaves. Dry em up and smoke em. Only in these narrow strips of trees does it rain dreamcheese. Some kids grew up not knowing what rain is. Heat Breaks when mask goes west.
Follow your Star into a dark alley for answers, bring a silver pitcher. Sleep-waking we build an inner nation. Road kill pizza by the road side. The Easterbunny-sink hole-ceremony-tarot-house of Red Hills. Get your fortune read or do some chanting instead. Go on a obscenic hike. Harvesting the Poppy Field.
The men bring death to the great Creepytown Strange festival. Sudden drunken flash mob with guns and knives taking lives. Folding human beings to the bloody ground. Grins now lost and never found. Yellow severed hands broken jagged bones. Corn god Trapped in electric blue by the flesh lickers Blank Shrine. Sigals trapping spirits and gods but not for long. It's all their fault and the result is a ghost town. The only sound is coyote howls. Secret Side our Lord was his Mask. The Great Suicide bombings of competitor's of the King, Must die Advice. On the bloody morning Leering and Pressing. The town festial older then man will hurt hour. Clog the clock.
In a Ghost Town Our Holiday in the Darker Sun Maize Shotgun. Just bones, not a living soul around. A convention of the dead Hacking the Great Alarm were killed, by the fire, all of them. Bones turned to black ash spills into the breeze. The town in ruins folds down in a sad sigh.
In his Delirium, the Owl King Eat my Shrine, the fabric of time space. The sky the day the Bloat Works. Ate all the raisins in Kansas. Ate the entire stock of the roadside roadkill vegan food stand. The Great Fallen in the days of toxic milkweed prophets. The utter end of everything pretty. The great crumbling of hope. The words of turds blare like trumpets. Worked half the spirit up to slay the Scarecrow Prince. Ensure a smooth rule for up to seventeen weeks. But the angry crowd with pitchforks and torches are dressed with beaks. The only food coming into this palace is brought by pigeons. And idols of the great alarm suited gloats. Taste this cloud and a angel's hand, Roadside roadkill human meat steak stand. The tale of Orv Wilson