Sourced from Responsible Forests by Alex S. Johnson

Handy candy makes the blood glow warmer

In suitable clothing, on stilts or in makeup

Cut from the same enchanted cloth

Diamond dusting pavilions of the status quo

In the saintly corral they bathe the maidens, realistically crazy

Sourced from responsible forests

Malaise in Blunderland

Remorse has made its monsterpiece

And here the shivers are worthy of their spines

Finding the hellbent clock smashed on warped surfaces

Burned into this, enduring because of this

Marching through bloodsick woods

In search of the ghost of this

The shooting reaches an ecstatic rhythm

Two hundred haunted rubbers crashland the dove

Smiling he stains the slaves with eyes

The walls open the shirt of the mother’s pain

Crucified the tails of his jacket scream in desperation

I can lead you to the water’s heavy leg

Where at the edge of the mirror, sunken horses and a blonde desert

Castrate the umbrella mined from her navel

Blowing out the brains from blind torsos

That remind one of the rectangular trigger

Hidden in eternity’s eternity

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