Father | Son | Hard worker | Proud owner of Mitsubishi Materials Company and Activision-Blizzard Inc. | Loyal husband (cheated only 2 times) | Certified genius | Nice guy | Domestic abuser | Just a right guy trying to do the right thing 😌

Let the jesters dance themselves to their graves while we shuck n' jive around their headstones, fate decides the instruments while you sing along and whisper to the melody to encurage it to continue.

Raise the hungry graves, they must be fed the broken remnants of the hopeless dreamers to leave the green pastures for the ambitious slitherers.
The devoid pits continue to hunger, the slitherers do not give up. Their regrets few with coins steeling their souls, they put rubies in the impatient empty graves so they can loot diamonds.
These diamonds are force-fed to the abused, kind and agreeable Mother's fruitful soil to kill and strengthen it, now no more graves can be built for the wriggling worms of lustful decadence, setting infernally enlightened foundations of stone and metal which no shovel can penetrate. Thank you Mom, I know you love me and I love your love. A glimmering sense of relief, finally a real feeling. But their twisted souls now leak pure rot and decay, pooling underneath their golden thrones on the cold, steel floor, weeping rusty consequences. Time cares not for wealth, only for itself. The powerful nibble on the weak while the lifeless serpent devours with indifference. The decrepit tail tastes of infinite yet fleeting pleasure, destitute kindness gives way to the acidic juices of splendid yet spiritually demented hoarders, and so the deathless Ouroboros will never not live, a spinning vertigo of thoughtless desperation and self-defeating hunger. I'm sorry it hurts, your pain makes me cry while mine makes me free.