Imagine this being read out loud with increasing desperation. 'tis how I perform it and it sounds much better that way... lemme know what you thinkpaceIn Sanity In a Run On SentenceAn infinite stand of definite bland controls of our land of infinite sand for making a glass to mold to our hands for mass half ass bass to live in their class and regain their old grand utter infinite gas that leaks from the cracks that grow like the grass gritting green through attacks till it pulls through it's backs it's water too slow so it knows there's no flow so it cracks turning brown returning snacks to the ground of our new found rebound to definite finite brown and grey mound that we now know is round, this thought so profound, like unpronouncable sound, like the smell of a hound, like how coffee comes ground and so few know they're born bound to this thing they call life, this thing of this strife, thing of infinite spice that will dice up the mice full of thoughts just like lice, like every meal as rice till we're scratching our heads till our stomach's cave nice and we're barred to our beds face red full of dread just like Ted Kaczinski said, just like we have bled from the way were were led, but enough is enough, yes I'm calling this bluff, sure the tough in the rough will get buff, but the rest will just scuff and I've had enough of this stuff, yes enough of this guff, yes this dooms day death game isn't just fluff, in fact it's the same as a warring mind frame and I know it's not right but I know who's to blame when there's started a fight till the whole world's aflame because it's all civilised but not one of us sane.
