The script shifts, now in rows of 3 condensed reality. The Gap. Linear shift smog, horizon jumped return signals the end of time; shift key capitalizes, numeric woe smudged into patterns, immortal_given syndicate-Any one's guess approached the ledge, the lead filled Eden_The smoke fueled reaction, the bio-degradable treason_Tip Toeing overdoes into the north. Night's capacity, the night shifts. Inquisitive shells fell through our arrows, symbolizing heat and all that;s left is a mixture, Two parts shifted, the key capital script that is_As the edge moved closer and the night sang vultures in her throat, in the tune of Eden_Even Eventually on fire, let go of her hair. Patterns immersed in this gradual system of recognition_it takes our time: The alleged approach. Ill advised, patterns shift, the space script ever; everything staged takes a bow:The dead take the stand, stance scripture; Eventually hypnosis lets go of her here:
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