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The alleys will flow in neotokyo, denial smeared across the marble tiles, tearing the wings off seraphim, sideswiped by penance, cerecloth barking harangue, a vacant glare in reproach, to walk unborn, on the 14th they stole their limbs, and who then will collect the debt by the sickness you infect, the bedpan brothels, the scandal of labefaction, answers inoculated, the opiates feed the sores of circus fiends colliding in ataxic copulation. The tremblant is attached as their lungs collapse.

– Josh Fleming

Words Inspired by and rearranged from: The Mars Volta EP Tremulant

Image from: Bladerunner


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