| Synchronous vampire threat margin
|
| headless effort
|
| Creeping desert
|
| hide in the present
|
| Thermic shock contrast
|
| Death forecast
|
| Dry rising
|
| This is what Chuck called «sex for profit»
|
| Endless profit
|
| heat the market
|
| Bleed the carcass
|
| Telepathic insider
|
| Psycho kinesis in endgame investment
|
| Pull the plug and retire to the capsules
|
| Retire to the hamptons on broken guilt futures
|
| The final shock night double feature
|
| Twin headed looming creature
|
| Salt rising in dead pretext
|
| Like failed soviet irrigation projects frozen logic
|
| No long term and no macroscopic
|
| We looked beyond and there was nothing
|
| A mechanical prophet and a talent contest
|
| Nothing to subvert cause its oh so quiet
|
| So dry
|
| Nothing is lost
|
| You chose your fate and the pool evaporated.
|
| Like a Stalinist vintage team photo patched up
|
| Rewrite the past and let nostalgia catch up
|
| Neo-truth hedge fund parallax mist
|
| Things that do but do not exist
|
| But see, these things simply don’t exist!
|
| The seer sees the terrors freed in extra-dimensional yogic drought
|
| The brightest and the best caught in the tightest orbit
|
| Morbid self-interest
|
| Nausea dry riverbed mouth
|
| No liquidity, no depth index
|
| Adrift on sand, shifting bandwidths
|
| Sifting through empty cans
|
| Remind me what is the long-term plan?
|
| Roaming gangs?
|
| Is this the best you can?
|
| Remind me, what is it to be a man?
|
| A non-solvent gene portfolio staring at a tiny puddle of brown
|
| Absent liquidity
|
| Set to optimum gain threshold
|
| Grasping at the hot air as your falling backwards
|
| Ambient liquidity removed by extraction
|
| Real current removed and replaced by phantom capsules
|
| I always wondered where the blood was channelled!
|
| The Reservoir is a mirage and finally seen as such
|
| Nothing but brittle bills that crumble to the touch
|
| Parched dry paper, all water vapour escaping
|
| Is this what happened before Weimar?
|
| The palace is empty
|
| keep rolling, keep taping
|
| Is this what happened on mars?
|
| Is this the end of your quest for the stars?
|
| An airlock hissing open in red dust
|
| A sense that we’ve been here before but no sign of liquidity. |