the orators never listening, but he understands us perfectly, our fears, our hopes, our faults, our dreams, this is what i do for him, and this is what he does for me, when your time does, whatever it is that time does, when it doesnt, at least as far as youre concerned, the periphery dissipates which is in essence what you might believe was your life, was never even a part of it, check mate... hey! the rusted screws serve a purpose, bend at the elbows, the arms are not just for melting off, i can be your action figure, pose me in your favorite military taunt, and i will do backbends for anyone, consciousness fading, doesnt leave room for the companionship of another blinking light, that shared experiences are percentages of time spent counting ceiling tiles and taking a shit is the scariest fucking thing, checkmate... hey! warning! a mobs an angry sea, that swallows everything, lets band together to protect the weak, the weak, they need a banner to fly, and mine is the one that theyll hold up, fasces... hey! our commodity is your dissent, your angst, my wallet, get in my wallet, COUNTERCULTURE SURE IS BIG BUSINESS! this is what i do for it, and this is what it does for me