An award and admiration for a played out station occupied by its creator from the start.
Interesting to watch others reinvent the heal, to stomp and bray while miming an old idea.
The shock value diminished with his work unfinished, witches and warlocks play into the ego of livestock and the Billy goats grotto is only new to you.
Ancient with lies the king just smiles while you wind up the surprise.
Inside the box Jack has your eyes, your soul unsprung, the medias pun as the laugh track plays while the handle is spun.
Look at me, a stripper pole between Satans knees. You’ve never seen this before, the shame, the shock, the tapping hooves upon the floor.
But Satans Salems are strewn about and there are always souls seeking hoofs to tweet clout.
And the lies from day one are not easily undone because the station so many seek is only occupied by one.
Blood filled tennis shoes and rituals in the news are nothing new and those spinning around in circles on poles are just the latest version of an old dance that the wicked already know.
The oldest visions painted and printed have already shown us these hoofed positions.
So masticate and master bate the lowest version of you, chew and spew the redundant in full view.
Your shock, your stripper pole screw you is nothing but intellectual laziness and creative decay.
Bring us some new views of worthy news for it is a lot more validating to create than regurgitate your worn out dancing moves.