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Subjugate the Massless

What a cornfield.  That’s what the old gunslinger cattle boys of the Ole Timey West must’ve said to one another.  Wow, what a great carrot you got there, Pilgrim, the farmers would say.  They *farmed* in my eyes.  The Aztecs painted, the Romans… well, when in Rome.
Regardless of all of this hullabaloo and fritter fry, let’s talk turkey, mates.  A fact is a fact and a deal is a deal.  Finito.  End.
Fire up the Mesopotamian monoliths, bros.  Sink deeper and deeper into that lovely sound in the back of your head which only has three words for you.

31 flavor

Death is a theme in Michael’s Ivy.  The choices in life and death are a yoke to a man.  A cool glass of water in an otherwise parched land, or the signal fires of another shore for the man who once had it all.

There are other themes.  It’s not like you are supposed to just sit here with me and let’s have a spooky old time of it.  No, no.  Let’s go to outer space where death isn’t real.  The year is 30,000 AD but everyone’s stopped counting by now.  We’re just beings of pure light, dance with us.