Just because he was around He saw there was no hope And the world was so messed up So many times That he went out and did some vigilante stuff, got caught, and blew his own brains out. Again. What lame dandy ass motherfucker is running the “no hope” muck rag? Where are the rock and roll super heroes with the ZZ car? Probably packing boxes at Amazon and dealing with unanswered fates. Doom sells, baby. Doom sells. Doom employs. Doom pays. And if you want to be a true motherfucker-make her doubt her own character for bringing life here. Click here to see no hope. Loosen your belt the sky is falling. Fate is doom and doom is fate. Tempurpedic for your coffin. An old idea. That’s just reaching the general population. More violently. Suburban/consumer banality and the cake tears is now strobe light violence fuck police state no hope And everybody’s out of words And out of hope. Until one day A cold metal box in space Receives the emotional distress-signal vibing From our teenage planet And on the box A green light blinks on Surrounded by a black iris Back on earth, The desert sands ripple Around one of its own wonders Ceiling Debris falls onto The dusty control panel As sand cascades down the hieroglyphs in the pitch black cockpit There is the sword sound From the Robert Palmer song And Deep inside the pyramid, a Gibbons wakes up To spare one person One traumatic event For one lifetime You are that person. Because today the good guys win. You have to think this way To do more than survive. To do more than survive Do more than survive. Do more than survive