once i master the frown the twisted crease of my mouth when electro-magnetics are applied to the mind post cranial lycopene injection
time and space crease yes boys down at the private lab have drawn it up with four axes of negative-space
marked the spot that must be trod with lonely abandon
i urinate when the pressure shadows my perception in waves or is it strings fff-f-few
back in bologna in 1971 as james and bootsy massage the trunk of ganesh
and bobby byrd shakes as a tripod of the new funkadelic time prison
the metal section blows through the gut of worm, warm, and deep
and stretch out to the motion of cellular walls expanding inside
the beat the beta the mashed potato