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CALM BEFORE THE STORM
Volume Up... To 100 percent, let's give those melodies something to feed on. Scraps, Feeder songs. You might need readers, glasses, you'll have a blast if you can see this conceited piece of gibberish in which we concede.. completely exceeded our own expectations. Nah, tip of the iceberg, write my words on rice paper and swallow it before people say its libelous. To write without geopolitical freedom = lifeless. Nobody would like this, including the propietor of these unkind assignments i.e. Nietzlawe II... Who does what he do because do he what does Who? Left in the dark, with the light on. Pitching, writing another bitchy piece, synapses itching... Trying to stretch the imagination to unimaginable lenghts, teh end is never in sigth. You gotta write to clear the negative vibes. At the same time you're Bonding Souls, at first you were just writing shit while tired, but then aspired to something higher, now they say Zen-like Messiah. But we say, that they say, crazy, shit, talking out of their modderfodderfucking.com asses... It was never the intention to give the impression that you gave a fuck, back then, when the health wasn't so good and the outlook wasn't so bright, you hadn't reached enlightenment, even now you haven't received that entitlement. Bestow a kid from the worstown. You can't do that, or remove that hat that I just glued to your forehead of your 4th head. Then I forcefed your horse with radish. A dish, which is better than lamb, fish or chicken, beef, pork or Stork margarine. Ogle the norks of the stark-naked Star Wars fan... Female of course, but let's not start wars... Let's continue this irrational but passionate journey into the unknown abyss of Abi Titmuss on a piece of fitness apparatus. Let's piss on our friends, then dance with haters.. Let's masturbate on a plate of potatoes.. NO! Let's stay focused and remain in it for the Long Haul, do it for teh lauhgs and lawls... Scrawling, tarnishing the walls, using the space as parchment for my tapestry, tap in to this, recharge the batteries, it doesn't matter, we can sit and laugh at Rich and Matt from the Snuff Box, happily. Waste time filling up this vacant mind space with great ideas. To release without giving ourselves sleepless nights, weeping without the light on... But tonight the wake up show resumes like a Sumo wrestler eating Sumo sushi... The fucking show only ends when we say it ends. It could end in the next sentence... Or paragraph. Paragraph? You'll be fucking lucky... Don't go making expectations coz I have no intention of living up to them. And certainly no intention of giving up this explicit arrangement of strangeness. Dr. Love, Seuss, Zeus, nothing to lose.. except invisible possessions... Small potatoes, man I hate those, you can't make mash... But the head of this dickhead is mashed with Maria Sharapova, well her rear really, can't compare hers to my rear, which is hairy'er than we originally thought when we were eating Worthers, they were hers, but we stole them, which took its toll from the golem that solemnly did swear that he swore before his lips had time to open... He had something real important to say, but we threw him in the quicksand and watched him sink real slow... Slowsand. Emile Sande can't stand this humour, or understand how the words connect, and the spellcheckers are pissed off at how many fucking words they have to correct... Tough shit, you need to adapt or get slapped in the face with a bream fish, or alternatively, a smeg-coated penis dipped in Wasabi sauce, then wafted under Robert Mugabe's nose... Robert McClarkGable, unstable dictator, hateful prick.. Satan. He's 90 now, sooo almost dead, not long to go. Tick Tock.. Prick Drop... Dead Quick... so that sick head... can perish... I'm moorish for more of this morbid shit... Back in the day there was a thing we used to say, but that quote got lost and the bloke that tried to deliver it got throttled... Like that Day of the Tentacle that tickled ten testicles simultaneously while playing the piano and a prostate gland at the same time... RAMEN RUMOURS! Today I tried sushi for the first time... Raymond was my father's name, everybody loved him, except the inept doctors that didn't try hard enough... Water under the Bridge.. of Resentment. So now I bring to you my hateful presentation that no human on Earth should bear witness to, except a bare witness who is scared witless man because she has just been raped by a rich businessman called Rich Bisnusmann... Sink the Bismarck tis already sunk now its time to dance the funky chicken and eat paella and cut patella. Sell the kneecaps to Neil Capp, its no long handy that Andy is handicapped... But forget about him, what about the magic in these fingertips, flinging shit under your nose so that you can smell it lingering like a singer that can't hold notes or carry instruments... You've ruined that cover, you stupid motherfucker!
Take my last breath and die a horrible death, impossible stress levels, intolerant thresholds. The irresponsibility had took its toll, Took is rolling on the floor laughing his motherfuckin' ass off, while we are curled up in a huddle ball after fighting through a struggle, we fell from the scuffle, just another brawl. Another mental barrier, just another metal wall, but we can get over this by using an aircraft carrier and settle this once and for all. Its time to pull things together before its too late. No, not the drapes, or the two opposing magnets that wont meet in a darkened room in Arkansas. Noah's umbrella doesn't work, its unemployed, the thing wasn't deployed properly. Acid rain, beakers of the green stuff, jars of creatine, cretins in charge of the lab, retina scans wont work, they are unemployed also. Eyeb Halls, paint all over the plaice fish and a scene I can't quite place this. Frosting and glaze, lazy eye syndrome, too shoddy to compare, nothing can be replicated except the reptile's projectile vomit. But we choose to omit that scene from the film, then put the villain into witness protection for his own safety. The line between reality and fiction is blurred, or maybe you're just not aware you are not wearing your new pair of glasses. Google Glass, Bulletproof eye patch irritates your eyelashes, Bulletproof Monk, Mudder do thunk, think, that's the thing Nietz.. you don't think.. before you write.. you tend to use things before they are even piped into your mind. Type, don't even give the paper time to dry, and in the midst of this improvised bullshit, you don't tell us why the blog is about Sacrifice? FUCK YOU NIETZ! I QUIT! Wait dude, are you not first going to read what I writ? Wrote.. devotedly? Neither would I, we, they, them, you, us.. argh! Puppy Play, Pedal Pumping, Revel in Baselines, my playtime consists of a way to waste time by making fun of people's waistlines, or raise awareness like a campaign searching for A Missing Person. But these frigging words only end up worsening the situation. My own future is uncertain and unsustainable.
Okay, playtime is over, time to stink out the place with these sweaty odours.. But it can't happen, not while this Argentium keeps us smelling like a gentleman with rough hands that has been dealt tough cards in life... Cardboard boxes more like, sleeping in them, with a sign that says FRAGILE DO NOT TOUCH.. because you might end up with cardboard cuts or friction burns or a six-inch scar from tampering with the sticky tape.. Gaffer from Tampa Bay Florida.. I wish that rider would go with the flow and spend 90% of his life alone in a cyclone with his psycho clone that was created out of experimentation rather than necessity... You get the message here Dr. Messenger, who shit in his pants then ordered a hit man to aim the red dot on a nipple. The Tit Man. Sit down and listen to this potato waffle from a lecturer. He's got his head in a towel trying to revive Elvive shampoo, but how will the animals survive if you buy products that do cause so much pain and suffering? You give more money, it gives more encouragement to test on mite whice and runny babbits that have mascara put in their eyes, and you don't haveacara in the world? All to boost their finances and project false beauty with scientific chemicals that don't work. Yezzir e Bob would not approve such shite. If these fuckers had any sense, they would pause for thought, how about taking these chemicals and pouring them down their throats? Biyatches, tis all about the Human Image. We are nothing except a stopgap for the next age. It doesn't matter if you are a Mason, dumb or amazing, you're more flawed than four floats that don't float... You can't change the world Nietz. Who said I was trying to? I'd be lucky if I could change into a fresh pair of clothes every day. No time to shower, or be clean shaven.
Why get burnout when you can learn how to churn out shit like its a kind of gym workout.. Enough to make you break out in a sweat because of your debt problems. Pipe down, then drown in 9 episodes of Downton Abbey... But Abby has down syndrome, that's the twist, like a watch that can barely fit around your fat wrists. Or like a mattress that can hardly carry this fat shit. See the sign that says GET FIT? Follow its rule, its time to sweat bitch. If you slim down you'll be able to scratch that leg itch. Hell, maybe you wont need your medication. I'm joking apart, but seriously I've started walking again to stop putting a strain on my heart. Only 12 stone, and palpitations, chocolate the culprit, fatty ingredients? They are full of it. Coca cola too, Pepsip, curry, too much of a build-up of lactic.
Make music for fun man, give it to the masses, never start charging for the privilege, otherwise you forget about the true meaning of what you're making. If you choose a pile of money, then go sit in it someplace on your own. The enjoyment is having something to strive for, a struggle, to be kept on your toes, something that stops you from stalling, or becoming stale. A never-ending feeling that there is always an extra rung to climb to, that constant drug, to keep on keeping on. The show must go on and the fun must never stop. you must remain forever unstoppable, a pill poppable, not culpable for being a puppet. with the mentality of a corporate fuckwit.
399... Tick Tock... Calm Before The Storm... Tick Tock...