I am a Clown(Playing Playing)

Carriage cultists, got no time, to think about a future without combustion. Who needs scientists or weathermen to tell you what the weather is, or whether it's warming and this or that is toxic(it is); if you have to ask, you will never know, we only learn in vices of steel. Too late my heartbreak, little too, but hey, nobody ever got out alive anyway; Gabriel was vaporized playing with China black powder. Expiring eggs, and the angsts' men will never know, very plural; although we will be the cause of a lot of that angst. We want it, you want it, but easy won't be a player; not when it's so much funner to play cat and mouse gamers, between the freedom to love forever, two as one, the freedom when they bore of you(r shit) and their playing, and the freedom of evisceration. The heart is a method actor, and takes no direction. We'll all laugh later when the joke hits, but in payment for it, you have to keel over after getting it. There is no past! It is all now now and that slipping fast, call it all what you will will. Always looking for wormholes and answers, this is the wormhole, you're living it, and answers I love, but they're just question breeders. I hope only to live well enough, that someone should stack rocks where I fall. A small pyre for just another firefly folk. Tell me a story for the road.