This is it.

She asked me a series of questions about rebirth to which i replied during a string
of death defing feats, crowd pleasing, naked to the naked eye and sacred eye. Staring eye to eye with magic each time.This was during our time of crisis where we sang redemption song by candlelight in order to invoke the wisdom of Bob Marley. Indigo traffic slowed us down. By the end of the ritual we had sacraficed ourselves to three divine aspects of the dark side. It wasn't clear which one more favourably. She could hardly harness the fact of our insular swelling. By comparison we had devoured the competiton and left only reminants of their existence which we shipped to their relatives for a small inexplicable fee. The sum of which enabled us to continue our savagry at a much more efficent-less time consuming rate.

'Avalanche' i say as we held on to our ornaments. ' this must be it ' she yelled as we jumped into the oncoming debris. My caramel criminal is she. Do not follow me. I am but a mislead servant of misfortune. Misstiming our escape and expanding our deliberate sense of rythm into our pockets as polititians.

She was able to call me until a man responded, with fury hands and an itch above his left eyebrow, above which he claimed would be a stitch had he not been a knife yeilding assailant of the finest jewelry shop robbery to leave both the store clerk blind and sexually satisfied-although slightly removed.

We spent the next several lifetimes in reverse as a subliminal message. Attacking the masses day in and day out. Dooming them to servitude and non awakeness. as a clergyman he missed his watch. misstified he sat and awaited the arrival of the Jamaicans.