Buddyeric

Come on down, we'll sit and smoke pot, we'll remain until we rot, worrying about nothing, in this unending paradigm, we launch ourselves to new and known places, never leaving, always gone, understand these words, because they are truer than they show, when everything is slow, you know, how far you can go, burning, in glass or paper, we'll burn some more later

Look at the statues, we imagine them still, but with a simple effort of will, we could make them real, we imagine them still, yet they were made with great will, we imagine, and if we imagine, can we not imagine them animate?

Necrophilia I beguile you defamated corpse, the threshold of murder is always new, upon a victim, I let myself in your inanimate body, Slowly, surely, receding bodily warmth, I long for pleasure, but find myself at repelling state, Now I abscond youre corpse, leaving it inert, in the now muddenned dirt,