For these steel days. Since it was all commercials, we won't pay. Some chameleon miracle glimpses itself growing out of a risk and what patrol slid out of sight like a parrot's eyes stiffen to expose your silences back to you and the grind between stations gets loose and timorous and dealing with the myth that men are angels brought a dent in the friction where I'm coiled, hidden, stricken by the calm of re-appropriated ignorance. It brought about the end of opinions. Their ghosts rejoiced for us and them is us again.
