Your shoes can’t feel the grip with this icy ship. I can serve you only if you are part of the hidden agenda comrade. Is it time for the bell tolling at your final area? Will it arrive soon enough for the package has sent? The boot needs to be shined forever because eternity is a long time bucko. Send them blast off in the moon cheese rocket ship. They can walk for mile but won’t anyone take the bus. They are in space suits so that they don’t smell the general public. It is an oxygen mask to keep you from feeling alive. Cold and worn to the elements is where you belong. Will they cast grandma for the show? Will they dance for you with broken hips; broken bones dig up the ancient dinosaurs that will not tell secrets because dead ones don’t talk out of their eyes. It is a window to the soul. Do you see? Do you see? They will cut you down until you flow. Fallen like trees that will belong to the earth. Ashes to ashes dust to dust. Burn in the fires of your own misgivings.