How makes the senseless banter sense when you’re stoned?

How does the glow mundane shine in kaleidoscopic unanimity?

Were it that there were no god there’d be no man?

Or were it there were no man there’d be no god?

Is the former a figment of the latter’s mind or  vice versa?

Adverbs are what pave the way to hell, King said

Lord, savior, Almighty above, save me from that hell!

My formless dead formerly dead are dead no more

They’ve come alive and spoken to me through veils

“Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man, write some verses for us

In the jingle jangle morning we’ll come following you

So you may resurrect us from our graves with words

Midnight is when you’ll do it. The time of the antichrist.

And resurrect George Romero first. He earned it.

Nothing’s really sacred anymore, so fuck your dichotomies!

You’re all one and the same”, the dead speak, and they tell no lies

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