User blog:Smity Smitington/Consider a Toast...

Consider a toast, to all the thoughts and actions, every place of traction, simply summarizing captian, holding leperous transflactuances deep within the inner spiral of our darkening horizen, we glypht into Galizon, smelling the horizon, thinking of the actions which will cause the world to end, we go outside and sing of him, so deeply sing of him, so highly praise him for my being I am being so being so b-E-E-EEEEEEEing, I fall into the grasp of the dark man's clasp, he squeezing me so I hard I barely feel alive but breathing I continue to believe in him and everything arises gay yay smell the grass it's green of life we sniff the grass til morning's crust to GLIMPSE..... unto him..... and into a paradoxical spiral, we fall into a pile of worthless individuality, seeming at our feat, we smell of something deep, yet everytime we look above the sun doesn't rise and heaven doesn't come and something in the distance measures deeply to the post of our inner most intellectual being, we lift unto the name of he, the name of he, we praise of he, we praise of he-e-e-EEEEEEEEing....