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Published on Dec 3, 2008
Sitting perched upon the days end What will spite the plight and rot the wraith of thought Couldnt idea one kill idea two? But then Im left with an anarchy of subsystems overthrown by powers before
It is in deed a deed worth death For the thought of thought is quite enticing To look right through hearing and smell beyond taste in vast contemplations that have no measure
Now inside an instigation of intrigue Instills the illness of idea And its ideas inside this mind Controls the path I go
A waste of time, may I say But chained I stay inside this way The way I like, the way I learn, I kill, I birth The way I need to thought, the way I need to think The way ideas roll and play like children in spring upon gass thats green with bliss of sun and rain encased throughout the moments
So sit and stroke the egos egg This golden one will birth the path And on its birth I see, the abomination of me And go to kill another thought, an idea that came to rot its ugly face It burns on the floor, in blood it dies, Now from the ashes Two arise