Event horizon...

Well, what do you want me to write? Hell's bells, I don't know what you want me to type. How about a bit of feedback and I'm not talking electric guitar feedback, Weee waaa wooo. Christ it's only five to seven, the night is young, which reminds me I've got a dozen beers in my boot. I guess I could persuade myself to get them. If I'm even allowed alcohol in this retirement home for the bewildered. The grass is greener in heaven, 24/7, it's metallic green, heavy metal, it's because of all the nuclear bombs that we detonate for Guy Faulk's. We particularly enjoy the mushroom clouds that seem to linger. Blot out the sun. We fondly call them Thunderbolts, you wouldn't want one to go off in your hand. You'd be vaporised and lost forever. I'm a firm believer that forever is a moment, once you've seen it you can't unsee it. It's not a long time, it ends at the horizon, but the horizon goes on forever. Oh you must be laughing now. I am, that I am. Yes you are, Yeshua. Hell he lieu you. Hallelujah. But it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah, Why mention it then? Because you saw her bathing on the roof your faith was strong but you needed proof, and I tell you it's cold and it's broken fooorever. Which is only a moment, which ends at the horizon, the event horizon, you're in a fucking black hole. Think your way out of that. Turn the black hole inside out.