Managing my Children in the Slush

This is a benign approach to laughter.

There's nothing new, rain is dragging me to the bone yard.
Picture yourself in a train station, now destroy whatever is in your left hand... hand me the remains.
Pushing snot down the split twin openings of the meat on your neck, shut the f**k up.
This is an unhappy place, it's polished with bile and patted with rubber mallets.
Don't trick me, don't tell me to lie for you.
Have you ever nicked your teeth, have you ever thought of trying too hard or dying too fast?

Time is an influence, it's like syrup in the corners of your mouth, catching gnats and dragon flies.
This is no time to look for love, this is the f*****g cellar and as you descend towards the attic, pyramids glimmering blue
take your breath and pump exotic cheese into your throat.
It's awful wet down here, I am held up with coat racks and my time costs a fortune.
There's a lack of equal species, the mammals can eat themselves, consuming the streets in a conformist antiquity.

The sky turned and bended as his fate was introduced and he was kissed by a plate of Iron.
I'm so sorry. I'm begging you to fall off of a cliff.

Author's Note

Come with you.