Building up a bullshit scene wading through this stagnant Stream mannequins still claiming to believe fleece and vacate fossilized parallels now polarized, the record's been forever falsified sainted snakes now saving face ancient cadence keeps the pace revolution wasted in the wake all in vain the movement's turned up missing, every word spoken of change. Defeated by our actions and with every step we take we take with us a purpose, we are slowly surely picking up the pieces.
Killed everything you've made.
IN SIMPLE THINGS.
Somewhere along the way, goose stepping through a dead routine.