Put clear blue fluid on everything you see: children, our children, writhing in cornstalks full of plastic kernels.  You can save them only by completing the given task--wrong move—GAME OVER—but nobody cares, because none of the tasks or thoughts were real.  You mistook integrity with a stable drug problem, trying to repeat the glorious glory of the last load blown and for what?  Woops!?  Forget history goes past the last hundred years—now our sick children march down streets holding rallies for the cure, all because we couldn't think hard enough without complete silence.  Who is going to find the way out? With visions locking my mind, fear in my heart and sex gripping its cold irons round my ankledick...it won't be who you think it is!

YOU ARE STILL NOT DEAD!