I CALL THEM SOUR GRAPES

DARK PURPLE ROTTING STUFF

THERE WAS ONCE SOMETHING

NOW RAN OUT OF LOVE

A PTSD EXPLOSION HITS HARD

DO THEY WANT OUR SUN

A BATTLE STAR

HAVE WE ANY MORAL COURAGE

YOU TO CHANGE THE CORE

THIS ROTTEN APPLE

WE DON'T ADORABLE LOVE

NO MORE

IN INVISIBLE ARMS 

THE TRUST THAT CAN DO NO

HARM

HARM

A LIGHT FORMS ON A HOLE

READY TO SHOW

NEW BEAUTY TO THE WORLD

PERHAPS BILL HOLE

MAYBE

HE IS READY.