No. 321-A

And so, there it is, slowly ticking away.
More than hearing it, I can feel it, cracking away my flaws.
Ressonating inside my head, like a warning,
But I already know. Already it taints my thoughts.
Congests my view. Fogs my tact.
The lingering shadow of what should be done.
What has been done. What will be done?
Sacrifice a fleeting feeling.
Womanize, sleep in the absence of objectives.
Wake up, ready, for another has lost the round.
Take in, steady, don't bother about the sound.
It just tells it is known.
Shows what was seen?
Surely not remembered.
All I see are bottled bots.
Endlessly replying,
To our sad proposal of life.
Oh. Well.
Order in some more shots.