I time travel backwards, moonwalk the stack and flick flack
flap the scat like I'm making mats out of grass, because
when I spoke it I smoked it and then I blew the chaff
bath yourself in the aftermath as you drink in the brink in
humanities existence challenged by a simple paragraph
makes you think the stink it had to raise must have been
and expression of the brink of things
the way they found themselves so apocalyptically
and now you're in the city drinking in and out the mystery of the future
as you use your imagination to reenact the kak that has been used here
floating cars with inter dimensional chill, mill down the street
as your eyes meet with a foreign sibling eventually
you mention me, the words passing over your lips
and suddenly you realise the being is equipped
with a skibidi toilet flushing portal to dispose of you mortals