 The life of folk explodes, shadowing the moans. Need a drop of hits like De La Oa, get the f*** up the commode with the sure shot. Sure to make a body drive, driving no cabrio, no corners of co-op. Terror rains drenching, quenching the thirst of the power dawn. That five-sided vinegar, they're rocking sore on the victim of the earth gets bigger. The trigger's cold, empty your port.