As I've stated before, I don't often use this journal, or submerge in chilling waters a certain cursed offer, And refuse to relate to the coughing, softening excuses for slaughter, curdling as the high ratings, spilling from devil's daughters, degrading, disheveled, devoted, comradely serving the devils of previous mention, hold the questions, pour the blessed wine from the corroded vessel filling the crystal mezzanine and the skulls of thine enemies, brother, we are men among thieves, smothered and sung to the bees, launched and left to the mother sea. Oh woe is me.