earth arena paraphrase

sitting on the dock of the bay, remembering blair's ass-kicking karaoke that made me sink in my chair, sitting, half-heartedly fishing for metaphors in the mud, new ways to say that the potency says so, so deal with that, the potency of pudding stone

i wish english was my second language, then everything i said would be creative, i'd rattle it off noisily and there'd be one special orbital person that would elliptically love it like it was ordained by the laws of righteousness and zebra crossings

the ungraded imperium decrees these fields of broken glass fertile - the unimproved authority says, so, like, love it or leave it but, oh, you can't leave it, can you? how could you? it's not an option, but can disrespectfully remain as an idea to return to, idly - in praise of idleness - steal rations of worship, the kind of worship that impinges on others in the work-gang, when you're worshiping in that way you're not working and then they're forced to drag you along and support the weight of your chains, on top of everything else, and the profit margin for survival is already razor thin

grease firm, waste estate, debris realty, dust polity, scraparchy, domain of chaff, fief of filth

i'm done with it, fuck it, take it... you can have it all... i'm dreaming of saintly scavengers, beautiful beneficent tinkers, better times in extra-temporal galaxies

the sun can set now, and also rise, like on premise beach, in the video game version