I've been swallowed by the plaything
Born through my brainful ashtray,
It stinks, pure on this laughable side
The will to skin,
This gaping flourish encumbers
Last, poor unforeseeable shape
Now it's hard to end this incoherent, twisted dialogue
A conspirator
I can't image another mask to surround this pigsty
Listen,
Are there ways to limit my disappearing?
Tomorrow's decline will necessary fit together
Completeness through isolation
My plans were different
This is the answer to implore a patient essence