And all the poets' pens race across
their blinding white paper sheets.
The pages are turning, turning,
and the pixels on the screens
are screaming;
scream.


And all the dreamers' eyes race across
their breathtaking sceneries.
Their lashes are twitching, twitching
and the pixels on the screens
are laughing;
laugh.


The poets write their silent screams
beside the dreamers' dreams.
And painted on their walls,
you'll see;
THIS.....IS ..... THE.....END,
now.smash.your.television.
 
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