Conjunction of the sky to the Gnomes.
STAGE I. THE DEFINITION OF A BELIEF
To put a name to something is to dismiss it.
STAGE II. THE SIREN'S SONG OF SLEEP AND SAND
Belief is ordered into four contemporary archetypes, the GNOME, GOBLIN, VAMPIRE, and TRICERATOPS, each with its own unique shape and sound within the psyche. With exception to the Gnome, these archetypes exist jewutlukag kgh
dsgagjkfg
dsabnmtbmnr
God, I don't know what I'm doing. Tonight, that torments me more than ever.
I don't understand anything. I don't know anything. I am a mote of dust in a universe beyond comprehension, beyond intervention. Let me draw you a Magic Circle with my words, and we'll see what comes out.
I'm not thinking about much, but I know I couldn't sleep if I tried. Three days for a party and I don't know what presents to get Isaac or Lydia and far away Caraway feed. Sometimes, I wonder if nothing is your tormenting guise. I wonder if you ever never think you can't find her. I can't. Formatting this thing is hell and I can't do anything but look at the keyboard and see how the letters fall together, right now away. Away, away, away, away, away, away, away.
Things are getting colder, things are moving slower, and maybe that's what's got me all tangled up.
I've got too much momentum.
LYRIC, SPHERICAL DENIZENS OF THE DEEP.
I wonder if Finnegan wasn't an acronym for Joyce, because I just keep spilling the letter O. I still don't know how the lyre works.
STAGE I. THE DEFINITION OF A BELIEF
To put a name to something is to dismiss it.
STAGE II. THE SIREN'S SONG OF SLEEP AND SAND
Belief is ordered into four contemporary archetypes, the GNOME, GOBLIN, VAMPIRE, and TRICERATOPS, each with its own unique shape and sound within the psyche. With exception to the Gnome, these archetypes exist jewutlukag kgh
dsgagjkfg
dsabnmtbmnr
God, I don't know what I'm doing. Tonight, that torments me more than ever.
I don't understand anything. I don't know anything. I am a mote of dust in a universe beyond comprehension, beyond intervention. Let me draw you a Magic Circle with my words, and we'll see what comes out.
I'm not thinking about much, but I know I couldn't sleep if I tried. Three days for a party and I don't know what presents to get Isaac or Lydia and far away Caraway feed. Sometimes, I wonder if nothing is your tormenting guise. I wonder if you ever never think you can't find her. I can't. Formatting this thing is hell and I can't do anything but look at the keyboard and see how the letters fall together, right now away. Away, away, away, away, away, away, away.
Things are getting colder, things are moving slower, and maybe that's what's got me all tangled up.
I've got too much momentum.
LYRIC, SPHERICAL DENIZENS OF THE DEEP.
I wonder if Finnegan wasn't an acronym for Joyce, because I just keep spilling the letter O. I still don't know how the lyre works.
