The Color Of Hunger

We are going to review. No medicine to swallow. Taste is a crazy 5th sense. Shades of hunger prove hard to swallow. I’ve got to tell you something. That echo has been there forever. It lingers like the smell of kettle corn popped in a room 8 feet long by 8 feet wide. Just always air-raiding yer nose. No smoke has touched these lips since yesterday. Haha, who am I kidding? Smoke doesn’t have a certain place it can’t go. It’s not water or air. So it’s liquid air? Holy shit, awesome band name.
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Uh-oh negative. We don’t want yer fuckin’ money. We want yer pity; we want you to show us just how low yu’ll go. We feed off that shit. Spill yer deepest darkest secrets locked far beneath that shifty skin of yers. You sneaky prick, you won’t get far. Yu’ll die before you even come close.
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The clouds travel so fast these days. They never stop to enhance the five senses. The five senses. Hope, dreams, people, imagination, and happiness. Caught on the tilting force of time, he carefully stradled the minute hand, determination for survival thundering through him. The world couldn’t and wouldn’t understand or even begin to grasp the twisted thoughts that ran within his evil veins. Cucumber melon streaks soaked deep. Suddenly, he wasn’t running anymore. He was alive. AND IT WAS THE BEST FEELING IN THE WORLD.