Just because he was around
He saw there was no hope
And the world was so messed up
So many times
That he went out and did some vigilante stuff, got caught, and blew his own brains out. Again.
What lame dandy ass motherfucker is running the “no hope” muck rag?
Where are the rock and roll super heroes with the ZZ car?
Probably packing boxes at Amazon and dealing with unanswered fates.
Doom sells, baby. Doom sells.
Doom employs. Doom pays.
And if you want to be a true motherfucker-make her doubt her own character for bringing life here.
Click here to see no hope. Loosen your belt the sky is falling. Fate is doom and doom is fate.
Temperpedic for your coffin.
An old idea. That’s just reaching the general population. More violently.
Suburban/consumer banality and the cake tears is now strobe light violence fuck police state no hope
And everybody’s out of words
And out of hope.
Until one day
A cold metal box in space
Receives the emotional distress-signal vibing From our teenage planet
And on the box
A green light blinks on
Surrounded by a black iris
Back on earth,
The desert sands ripple
Around one of it’s own wonders
Ceiling Debris falls onto
The dusty control panel
As sand cascades down the hieroglyphs in the pitch black cockpit
There is the sword sound
From the Robert Palmer song
And Deep inside the pyramid, a Gibbons wakes up
To spare one person
One traumatic event
For one lifetime
You are that person.
Because today the good guys win.
You have to think this way
To do more than survive.
To do more than survive
Do more than survive.
Do more than survive

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