Guns, Stuns, Outruns on the bun -- more gore, for yore
grit and tention, behind enemy lines, rock and roll the boar.
Bored in the tossing out the infant with the bloodtorrent
water. I flicked for the Anthe as to generate a new Whore!
Enemies in the state of minds and Gun flicked forlorn shore;
the Anti-Whore wanted to sing some lullabies which he tore
from a choral book, nobody even cared to catcall Cthulhu or --
What's your game? As the Revolver was undecided to Wick or Moe;
the Himederes wanted to Kotoamatsukami, fliping the switch stain.
"In the name of all, what is holy!" "While God is Dead!" Crows
circling around the carrion of "Freedoms of Speech", which blows...
Then the stance between right or wrong, is but a simulation in a brain;
who's gonna pull the plug, giving back the Reverence, we once craved.
Let's start a War, to win back our Insanity -- injured was our bloody nose.
Heroics and Nostalgia, like ambiguous Aesthetics, for none take charge;
people just drink coffee and chill, no agency nor force of Will becomes!
Moral gossips, for the kicks, to Gun Flick the Anti-Whore -- enlarge.
Supersize all the cravings and entertainment, without relent, just barge
in, through the open door and down the nonexistent floor, lone-Hommes:
Through the crosshairs, the chairs of cleavoyance-voyeur du Sommelier!
Oops I clicked it again, understanding was terrorized, outcasting the Arch!!
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