Hiss Chant
You are a worm through time.
The thunder song distorts you.
Happiness comes.
White pearls, but yellow and red in the eye.
Through a mirror, inverted is made right.
Leave your insides by the door.
Push the fingers through the [...] You want this to be true.
We stand around [...] but you forget.
This [...] in your regulations.
We [...] [...] resonates in your house. [...] nothing remains.
The egg cracks and the truth will emerge [...] home.
You’ve taken your boss with your boss with you. [...] this reality [...] the song, time for applause.
This cliché is death out of time, breaking [...] fifth wall, floor; [...] to [...] humming in a dream: “baby baby baby yeah”.
Just plastic.
So, safe and nothing to worry about.
Ha [...] your room [...] you in through the hole [...] A copy of a copy of [...] picture.
When you hear this you will know you’re in new you.
You want to listen.
You want to dream.
You want to smile.
You want to hurt.
You don’t want to be.