This perimeter defines us in our endless wandering, raging and quiet. We are perennial to god's pulse. And we brag about it. We call on involuntary spiritual requests but our impulses are sharply focused in this giddy torrent of microscopic voids. Any questions you may ask about us have an answer. But then you would be asking the wrong questions. Understand it. This is not music. This is not a record. This is not art. We are not musicians. We are not artists. We don't want to be. We are Motorcyclists. We are Suicidal. And we are in the Circle of Death.
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This perimeter defines us in our endless wandering, raging and quiet. We are perennial to god's pulse. And we brag about it. We call on involuntary spiritual requests but our impulses are sharply focused in this giddy torrent of microscopic voids. Any questions you may ask about us have … read more
This perimeter defines us in our endless wandering, raging and quiet. We are perennial to god's pulse. And we brag about it. We call on involuntary spiritual requests but our impulses are sharply focused in this giddy torrent of microscopic voids. Any questions you may ask about us have an answer. But then you would be asking the wrong questions. Understand … read more