One-at-a-Time

THE MESS AGE OF THE LACKMAN (Silencing B)

Reach! Put em up. Put your hands in the air where I can't see them.

On the other hand, take your hand off me.

Then when I got shot no bitches came out, no music, nothing

But it was pure relief to fasten this unconscious sense of guilt (for being so lacked and beautiful it's unjust) to something real and immediate

One-outta-time says:

A normal man is not only far more immoral than he believes but also far more moral than he knows ("normal" here means willing, unprovoked)

I've only known you for 300 years now but in that brief span we've managed to do intimate damage because this creates jobs which give us work. Energy is the ability to do work; work is the ability to move something. Physicists chant this dysfunctional siege into manner. But where is labor then. (Where are your hands). And what is the wages for a still birth.

Next the psychoanalysts promise: There is no doubt that there is something in these people that sets itself against their recovery, and its approach is dreaded as though it were a danger. I think here recovery means assimilation and dread means resistance and danger means freedom and these-people-who-are-darker-than-blue, mean, everything

Make he good, like he say Make he say, like he good, like he God
hanging onto the sky with no hands