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For all the progress that you’ve made
Has only put one foot in the graveThe glory, the stories, the providence,
Mean nothing more than the latest eventYour grace and your gloam lack all dimension
When it stares back at the face of complete perfectionI’ll take taxes and a job over being strapped down and drained of blood, tbh.
It’s gotta feel like they’ve been abducted by existential cosmic horrors. I can just imagine they tell stories of these horrid abductions.
“They just snatched me up, these freakish giants with squishy, lumpy, fleshy exteriors. They tied me down, man, they tied me down and drained my blood! I’m pretty sure they thought I was dead, I played dead. They just tossed what they thought was my corpse back in the water. You gotta believe me!”
“I believe that you believe, Bill. We’re gonna find you some help.”
What, exactly, do you think work is?
I see you’ve never donated before. You should. It saves lives.
You know I hate to say I told you so
