Been tooling around with surrealist techniques. And churned out something vaguely coherent.

Go figure.


You have type-writer teeth,

Your fingers are turning black,

And there’s nothing you can do

to stop the inevitable. 

Every time we do what we do, 

We break apart at an atomic level.

At this rate we’re never going to see the summer.

We've got a crisis on our hands,

Leaving a generation with no choice,

Not even a tooth to be proud about,

Not even a tooth to bite the hand that pays the bills.

If this cause is lost, this cause is lost.

If we live under the weather,

and it's one more endless night,

At least there's always tomorrow…


Credit where credit is due: This piece uses "found text" here and there from some Alexisonfire songs, and has been through of the Markov chain text generator found at http://projects.haykranen.nl/markov/demo/
Last edited by Of_Wolves at Apr 26, 2017,
I enjoyed it.
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