A mortal cloud sits affront me, at the sides
as well is a crunching Armada, and passing is Pointless
Shadow on the right, Vacuum on the left
with taunting vulgarity, chit chat hyper fuse
apocalypse bringer, Task Force United, T.F.U.
screamin’ up capitol streets with odd numbers
in ‘em, strangely catatonic facially
reconstructed bubble-butt beasts, the future is bringing
a porn mag in the bathroom, lockin’ the door
not for shame but safety, which is first
then teamwork, keeping cautious eyes
on each other permanent, just in case
interruption is lurkin’, shame over shoulder
Setta Strike, leading team Point Chuckle
up the park to the tennis court, a bad place
to be masturbating in the day, but at night
the sensation is priceless, I’m sure.