The stench is remarkable, trailing from east to west.
A convoy of captains.
Will the medicine last?
Why do I even bother talking to automatons?
Is there a soul in this science or is the inference wrong?
Is there a song in this silence or is the audience wrong?
Why do I even bother going on and on?
A sylph and a cipher tell the audience facts.
But truth is in the transmitter: S&M or SMS or fax.
Truth and facts about lovers, young lovers screw on the shore.
Cadavers strewn all around them, those kids just won