Goodtime for badtimes..I´m rapidly taking the pendulum´s stanky, decomposed umbilical cord, cutting it off..roughly, softly, gently...evidently thrown out of the frames of gravity..of freely animalistic, frollicking, risky, known behaviours heavily calcylated and faded into cubicles..unable to budge, holding a grudge in a timely fashion given away to the populations of a retaliation---9-5 clone federation, blown out of proportions...now your whole gang is up for abortion. I´m writing a book about your dissapearence made for clarity...sincerely I don´t wanna be making a mockery of the trails you´re travelling by, but in reality they´re perishable and awful.Why in the world would I waste my time on information about your income? I´d rather be turning you inside out and get high with your outcome. Circumstances in my society´s steadily breathing liars..arriving in information being digitally official..to crawl inside of your mind and make you unkind in confrontations and compromises.. take off your desquise of being a victim, it´s OK to be mad though real identification with the anger will eventually run you over like a moonwalking bulldoser, essentially leaving you faded out in your prefabricated destiny. I´m a giant covered in glass, reflecting all of your shady actions...it´s hilarious and horrible, still I can´t get no satisfaction.. I presume I stay tuned, knowing the confrontation between your alterego´s will implode and then collapse by your own traps. It´s inevidable being part of the last itch into your crimes. Takes a miracle to be separating the goodtimes from badtimes.

I´m a hitchiker, a lasergun sniper, constantly out for bikers, riding the life in the fastlane´s main vain..to rain all over you bastards, faster than lightning, re writing, dividing historical, metaphorical ,lyrical oracles, conglomorating multinational corporations expectations, with a teenagers dream of an everlasting fame, covered in chains to de-materialise your intuition into computerised blazing trails in utillised horizons surprising to the blindfolded, devoted couch potato, libido-lacking, cradle swinging, women and man-lookalike-consumers, baby boomers and late bloomers, surgically looking for perfect devices for the hell that rises.. doown belooow.Let me give you a roose of your final afrodesiac.. You´re put on a train with a one way track, I would´nt complain if you don´t come back, you´re buggin my brain with the vain you lack, you´re life in the grain is painted with crap... Configurate my sunrise, a letter of literate, high advise. You fall for the main control...you call to corrupt your soul...who stole it? You were holding it just a couple of minuits ago..How do you like it now, they´re folding it mostly in image being cold enought to freeze until the end of it´s popularity at the hiigher latutudes and faaall into the ground of reality, cruched into particles, making the people read about you in articles being sad enough to make them remember you for a couple of hours, and then totally forget about your existance..it´s a good time for bad times..but I chose to not to rewiind the bad experiences in my life and put them in a gigantic backpack of monstrousities, sooner or later exploding all over the road I´m traveling by..to make my fellowman or woman cry.