Fig. 0897) Flaccid Favorites Things long missed in their teaching, be they still or be they quiet, our time is lessened nonetheless. Someone has to steer this anchor, sail it all the way to the bottom when the shops turn themselves over and their queues are carless as everyone’s gone home to vote. I’m tired of these convictions. Their pace has only become more dark as the night continues to keep itself outside. Where can an angry man get himself a drink, where indeed? Tonight, Fear is out driving and it's little car is made for twisty passes that loop around craggy rocks. Let's talk about words and foreign papers with pictures of trees. Let’s read about sounds rattling our windows. Like buttons on bees, there's green on frogs and hope inside the time that's within all the unopened boxes. Sitting off in the shed by myself. I’m waiting for the church bells to ring their foul victory. In my today-brain, I'm a little bit worried and blue. There’s so much wet to go wit...