I wake hearing a big one’s rubber feets screaming smoke into the air,
Spit-coughing a warning call angry to the Greens. No better way to
crack the lids. Little eated one, director of the coffin nail lush gush
red herring shared there, gas points won proper. A tremendous union.
No thing more smart than this battle against the sorest loser: green hell.
“Green hell is all around,” our Good Man warns, “take back our air!”
And green hell is so much bigger than those sinful pukes coming out of the ground.
Big ones run their rubber feets on the blood of dead old beasts.
Everywhere everywhere always all days all nights goading great gas points
Towards the little ones’ breathers. Waiting for Scrape Day, great day.
1 million gas points on the Good Man’s Good Faith Wrist Watch™
Come Scrape Day means pay day, Travel Day, THE DREAM!
“If you dream it, you can do it!” our Good Man cheers.