THE TEAL:
A soul only a mother could love;
nothing but an avatar anymore.
He cannot foresee
how the world will die upon completing D&D.
Forget the resurrection —
give us back that purple rain.
A soul only a mother could love.
Surely, death is no party, but why the disdain
toward gaining less of a body and more of a brain?
Your ears will disappear, ringing and remastered,
as Heaven violates Earth …
my, how Pharisees favor a kiss “unforeseen.”
THUMIA:
Oh sweet Jimmy, it’s always your fault — you were predestined to be Saul, forever terrible at jokes and not breaking yolks, sending kids to prison for hating Kendrick Lamar. Don’t forget: If you keep that locker room talk all to yourself, you might miss out on the good bitches! All those B340s so desperate for a hug and a hero … oh yeah, Lionel! I love it when you talk about Sunday like that!
THE TEAL:
A soul only a mother could love,
at its best / worst, checks for death first.
And to think I was once bratty enough
to believe in the Kingdom …
and you know, maybe Yahweh Itself is a sissy just like me,
sobbing inconsolably
at His Grimness’ thriving anxiety.
When I’m not wandering worthlessly,
I’m weeping for my Weedoh Pack.
But whenever she would cry, the apocalypse felt nigh,
so I stayed through the fizzle, indulged every pop,
couldn’t handle the rattle, dipped out for the knock.
Still, I wish I was holding your hand when you finally just stopped.
Oh, soul only a mother could love …
the moral of the story is,
once again, YOU DIDN’T FUCKING LISTEN.
A soul only a mother could love …
people only praise a memory of you now.
Am I meant to be anything more than a man
of deeply regrettable stage and manner?
HIS GRIMNESS:
Hey, soul only a mother could love!
Guess who’s dying to hear your demands!
THE TEAL:
Why, yes! Praise be!
Tell me more about this “special place” you speak of …
THUMIA:
Awww, Saul, you’re so cute whenever you try to be a good man. People are so naive to consider you above the easy way out. The fact is that you’re little more than a crime spree with terrible timing —
TODD:
Hey, [redacted]. Yeah, I said it — again. You know, with a little less conditioning, we’d probably ALL be murderers, so stop pretending that the electric chair you claim to control is a throne. I do need a lot, and … I’m sorry for that. But I’m not above reproach and I know that now — really, I do! Do you ever feel like WiFi usernames are the only islands where freak flags can still safely fly? Never mind, FUCK YOU … call me when you get this.
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