World’s Ending.
Trendlines.
Graph Paper.
Got No Time,
For Dipshit Kin,
Or Foolish Strangers.
If Slang Crude Be True,
To Mine Own Self Be Slew.
Crooked Write Angles,
Ninety Degrees Wrong.
Still See The Universe As Atoms.
You’re Still Involved Within The Former.
Impress Me;
Or Abscond,
Motherfuckers.
Graph Paper.
