'His eyes are wild, psychotic slits that bat-dance in your soul looking for good things to crush or bad elements to identify with.'
Sand. Sea. Sand. Sea. Sand.
I've never felt like a lobster before. Trapped in a net, caught in a cage. I've never had someone try convincin' me I'm dead, neither. At least, not until today. But. I'm all for new experiences. Like cake, with extra herbal ingredients. I'm wet and the sand's dry. It's uh... yeah, confused. I'm dreaming. It's alright. I'm dreaming.