a black carriage drawn along by horse's whose hooves strike into flame. clip-clop across the ground & what the hell, their hooves are cloven as well. a sable coach filled with wasps, while we are at it, windows criss-crossed with spiderwebs strong as steel girders. do you think i even fucking care? fuck the whole thing. i roll into town on an iron chariot drawn by brachiasaurs. i can't help but watch people fall apart the longer they know me; some kind of vicious half-life. drawn into the oubliette of my shadow; as innnocent as a toadstool sprung up from lightning me. you'll be stung by my wyvren, my wasp. i'll prick you! i'll have your head on my silver platter, baptist. but i'll be ever so patient. suns will swell & dim to dwarfdom if need be. i'll be here in the black place, in the black palace. i've got 100,000 ice ages in me, i've got 65 million years under my belt.