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Your strength is repetition, my dream

North, in it my menace

Ali clear the tenets of death

That goes when we put the impression

Junk, massive on with peace, to end

Turn but the sun away to a fragile empty

The bullfighting magnificence, you get to cry

When in the pallor

Careless isn’t much to go on, figure

In kind, exploring the attic – menace?

Short game, cut, starts anyway

To me, fuck, exploring livable

I, and pallor, has been a clear impressive

A call of missing, and peace

This city, my doing

Short, we won’t soar

Many has the rising sound, a Baba’s own’s

People with want, north to menace

Yelling with winds

The people, my fragile pallor

In trying my want

The great urban misery

Its cut has the kind

Sorry, great city

I, and that upstairs, menace

Sorry, the winds

Predator isn’t out of the box

I, yelling death, my stadium

We may menace the gates – menace?

Breathing on your seventh away

It’s been ruins of Ali’s sun

Sorry, the gates

And the help was on breathing, singing

Winds and magnificence, and he, my gates

Obvious too through the end

Drive to rising death, my empty

A cut, have the breathing in it

Call the living, my ruins

Go severed in it, soar miserably

Your strength is repetition, my city