Gibbons Awoken - Pujol

He saw there was no hope

And the world was so messed up

So many times

That he went out and did some vigilante stuff, got caught, and blew his own

brains out.

Again.

What lame dandy ass motherfucker is running the «no hope» muck rag?

Where are the rock and roll super heroes with the ZZ car?

Probably packing boxes at Amazon and dealing with unanswered fates.

Doom sells, baby.

Doom sells.

Doom employs.

Doom pays.

And if you want to be a true motherfucker-make her doubt her own character for

bringing life here.

Click here to see no hope.

Loosen your belt the sky is falling.

Fate is doom

and doom is fate.

Temperpedic for your coffin.

An old idea.

That’s just reaching the general population.

More violently.

Suburban/consumer banality and the cake tears is now strobe light violence fuck

police state no hope

And everybody’s out of words

And out of hope.

Until one day

A cold metal box in space

Receives the emotional distress-signal vibing From our teenage planet

And on the box

A green light blinks on

Surrounded by a black iris

Back on earth,

The desert sands ripple

Around one of it’s own wonders

Ceiling Debris falls onto

The dusty control panel

As sand cascades down the hieroglyphs in the pitch black cockpit

There is the sword sound

From the Robert Palmer song

And Deep inside the pyramid, a Gibbons wakes up

To spare one person

One traumatic event

For one lifetime

You are that person.

Because today the good guys win.

You have to think this way

To do more than survive.

To do more than survive

Do more than survive.

Do more than survive