Tell me what is the first thing in mind,
what to do when a job or a career has ended.
List it some say,
Do it anyway,
or have tech do it for U.
Damn it all to pieces.
I’d get me one way ticket to the land of the rising sun,
where the hot mead doesn’t bore the soul.
In a stupor of wanting more
a blonde aryan who can never speak,
but the butt and or it busts
your alcohol down where it
follows to where Nidhogg speaks.
Aye. . .
that be the land;
of ice and stone,
of the love of all gods dead and reborn,
of all wisdom in a mead out of a horn.
Then tell me you puny humans,
scurry about what life you can lead,
into a nonsensical greed of the weed,
that do become nothing into the air we all breathe.
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