A flock of Vilents all peck and pry. I wish they'd wing it, clock off and fly. Magneziks run 'round hissing spools. Their scratching tapes flutter untrue. When pitching shifts, black eyes will sing. When clawing caws, Sonars will sting. The Syphons shake shivers from Mees. Crowded 'round cold Elastik sea. An ironed pose encased in lines. Dead branches stick a trunk like mine. The tickings stop and time rebands. I've lost my watch and left my hands. This channel's cracked, draining in bends. Soaking of Hell, sunk in its sin. No mirror lake or virgin stream, this river feeds Elastik sea.
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