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Everybody's wanting a taste of perfect proportions.
Either too sweet, or too bitter
But at this state, it really doesn't matter.
It's the motion that matters in turn, the exercise that makes a difference.
From media's blame and false accusations to feel the need for all of this.

Intoxications simply blame the night for the trivarium of exclusive acceptances,
and the rhythm of the emotions, filling the voids of the human conceptions of the chemistral separations, through the oxygen barriers separating the form of what defines us.
SO HE SAYS

Over and over,
Continuously like the screams then forth to the melodic whines of fame returning to the past,
bringing along the moves to the shelters of the dark clouded district
why?
Popping through the smog
Psycho freakout whispers.
it's really not so analytical,
the stares of confusion
Oh crazy Stacy.

Watching me,
watching the smiles.
What's cute ain't so cute in the red.
With only four limbs holding the secrets as to being best friend.
What's made it that way isn't the companionship, but merely the religious confusion theorem.

Underestimate the vastness,
and how bold the education of a disciple trained in conceiving such an idea.
The discounts to which we look forward to has proven the degraded centuries,
to which we have run from.