
When everything is fake like snakes
And the lemons are made of wood
And the faces are made of mud and evil
I sit upon the throne of mundane jewels
And wonder what the cable car smells like
On the edge of an ice cliff I stand
Look out over white Russia while drinking a white Russian
Memories of a hip Denver restaurant
Gold urinals
Big boss conversations about disease
500 years later now
The day is grainy gray, and the rain is coming
Crisp autumn apples covered in cold dew
Out in the trees the leaves have lost their green
A comatose scarecrow hangs on a pole
To ward off the spirits of another dimension
Halloween goblins wait in caves
Prepare their sacks to steal the people
Fans whir in a cold, red room
Another day upon us all
The weight builds
The crush comes
Throw it off your back and breathe



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