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All right so I wanted to remake this but I’ve been quite a flake but now here it is you’ll see its bliss, not some flow-mo emo bitchless piss rant, well rant yes, I can't directly woo your mind out of the emo flow except subliminally so fully taking silly flow to upstage the drama phase I won't have this page emo, emo is the cacophonic tonic to subdue all intellectuals and hopefulls, for poetics. I love poetics, if when you speak it ticks it just makes you lust you’ll feel it in your blood and maybe even tears will flood so long as you connect it so the dialect is soulful and mournful yet nicely precisely concise in a full beautiful view. About me I hear I’m funny from those around here, and I love them for it even if I neglect the compliment because I might do that. A few have said I’m not but because they’ve fought in their head where the immature bitch side wins the hitch and is all that’s left of what could be a hefty sought after mind yet turns to an unfound worthless mechanism called their brain used in vain so much that its futile in use and abused, and I’ve gone beyond the point as if I’m on a joint. On that note some note that I can sound high but I won’t lie, I’ll never get high its not for my kind I’m blind to what my friends enjoy when they float with leaves but not to the joy of being myself so I leave. Yet I drink and I think and I’m happy with that pappy. If you don’t know the pace, can’t place the tempo, oh boy its fast, you’ll have a blast, your tongue will roll when the words flow but maybe to you it blows screw you whore. I don’t hate I don’t discriminate I stereotype for humorous hype, its great its your fate to be made a joke, make those choke with a laugh over some half-assed quality you have remotely no control over but when the joke is over just laugh and counter and you’ll fill those around with laughter for cracking on that halter. When I contradict myself it’s a trick I do know just how I meant it to come out what its about, at least, I think I do, pleased? Andrew in our MS yearbook noted I was a master strategist maybe I crush with my fist, the wrath of ten thousand sons what fun it could be or maybe I plan to screw you all over in the end you’ll be bent out and I’ll shoot that nudge that will push you over the brush and you will damn me for who I’d be. Or my master plan is to benefit those around me, I’d take them when they flee they’d be my patron in whatever condition even if house under rendition. I love music its what I think about for all day’s eve. Yet it won’t define me make me pristine, I love death metal but in no way say with clothes it’s my way. Those that have made it this far deserve applause, I don’t know your cause but I enjoy it even if it’s in neglect. So I reflect of mongoose not a goose on tape but the fate of a B-class animal passed upon yet sick as the devil for it’s even level with snake its not a fake it takes the cake, I’m not half-baked. Have I tried too hard with this melod’? Fuck no, hell no, its half-assed I could pass with this ass, for its worth and I can’t hearth out but in fact I enjoy that fact and I represent this so don’t hiss or I’ll piss on your door you whore. I’m not angry just vocal with no lethargy sin perezoso maybe “Darkness by her side, spoken passed her by. Dedicated hunter, waits to pull us under” HAH, so goes Akerfeldt, that’s how he felt I love it, it fits. Lethargy can be part of my factory so I conclude this delude in this mood of all moods that’s nor sad or glad but in the light of life as it should always be.