At the searing edge of the stratosphere
Seeing everything for its worth
In its boredom and endless and screaming lure
With serendipity at the touch of those who lost

The chance
For the white
To feel the burn
The watch
Of the eagle
Swoon’s turning tide
With reckons beckoning
Five for dying

It’s all fair
I promise
It’s all part of our plan
I promise
Desecration is how we salivate
For the unknown

Easy on the blaze, sweetie
We’re all losers here
We only differ
In how long we think we’re winning


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