Well maybe I'm fighting for a principle in itself dear census;- I mean don't such reason's exist in life anymore.

 

you last march close that much life down on

everyone, then you pretence in rather denial

of actual reality, life is perfectly dandy and

getting on as normal. To be honest dear census

form, you require fucking sectioning;- 

not obeying as an OMG threat.

& I've got british rail daemon's too in 

pursuit for a very deeply fare dodge;-

even though I haven't actually caught

a fucking train to ever warrant such.

lately.

well maybe I've already on the network been

south of yer in penzance, and north of yer

in thurso;- maybe ever considered you're

out / folded;- at least relative unto me.

i concede highly improbable;-

but nethertheless, the truth...

 

nb, note flight path on the curvature map;

we're trending early spring in the artic -

if anything'

nb;- i know 'what conventional height's.

but nethertheless what can a person do

but remain grounded and get on, 

spose you 'could' lose the plot.

But I'd rather not eh'

it's not a wrack anymore, but oooh the first ten to

fifteen after waking;- chemical imbalance and

is it zombie by the cranberries at all.

I don't know how you flight so first literally;-

but holy fuck a person need's to keep up and

allow for some yer know, and for fuck's

sake it keep's the spirit alive and

frame's of reference by proxy.

get lost'