#THE GNASHING TEETH WILL MASTICATE THE BONES FROM THE FLESH

[number1daisukefan]

Front Street by Will Wood is such a Mouthwashing-coded song actually

the. the undertones of sa and substance abuse.

THE VIBES.

[nahokura]

"Quick while she turns her back, slip it in"

I'm in a meat-pack plant by the gutterside

A slaughterhouse apartment with a slice of lime

I'm cruisin' with the bruisers, boozin', I'll be a suitor, losing my mind

Because there's nothing to find

The fetid stench of bad intentions hangs in the sweat

I'm in a sauna hot with drama, and I'm tryin' to forget

All the masochistic rapture missteps

Imminent pleasure's ready to cut to the bone

You said, "Let loose," but now you're lost

While I tied my boots like a tightrope noose

The problem chased the taste of the cause

While the evidence supports the truth, is 80 enough proof for you?

Here's to my lady, and I'm coming inside

Drink to me, baby, and what's left of what's right

It's easier to use and lose than never to have used you

On a fucked up Saturday night

Good times on Front Street

Loose lips sink ships, but captain, will you go down?

Float your boat 'til overboard and hoping to drown

Tell me what prevented you from coming downtown all alone

Because we know you're not afraid

This chastity is Greek to me, the meat is still fresh

The gnashing teeth will masticate the bones from the flesh

Since nobody will tell me where these bastards go, I'll see for myself

I think they might go to hell

You said, "Let loose," but now you're lost

While I tied my boots like a tightrope noose

The problem chased the taste of the cause

While the evidence supports the truth, is 80 enough proof for you?

Here's to my lady, and I'm coming inside

Drink to me, baby, and what's left of what's right

It's easier to use and lose than never to have used you

On a fucked up Saturday night

Good times on Front Street

And they goddamn disrespected me!!

Little idiots, idiots I was completely respectful

They're supposed to be my brothers, right? They're my brothers?

No, no, that's not fun

What they were doing wasn't fun

They kept zapping us and zapping us

Ah! Step right up folks! Get yourself a big meaty fill of some of the most noxious, toxic, obnoxious, disgusting shit in the world!

How vile can you be?

Is 80 enough proof for you?!

Here's to my lady, and I'm coming inside

Drink to me, baby, and what's left of what's right

It's easier to use and lose than never to have used you

On a fucked up Saturday night

Always a good time on Front Street

Last call for morals, better cover your drink

Sodom and Gomorrah'd, let it go down the sink

Last call for morals, better cover your drink

Sodom and Gomorrah'd, let it go down the sink

Last call for morals, better cover your drink

Sodom and Gomorrah'd, let it go down the sink

Last call for morals, better cover your drink

Good times on Front Street

[soggytapeworm]

Round 1 - 11th Battle

REMEMBER: VOTE FOR THE SONG YOU THINK IS THE WORST, NOT THE BEST! WHICHEVER SONG HAS MORE VOTES IS GOING TO BE COUNTED AS THE WORST. so like consider that.

I fucking swear I’m gonna start crying if I spell front as frint again😭��� (I did that twice more and didn’t start crying)

Lysergide Daydream

“I know the day is far away / And if it comes it will not stay”

Front Street

“The gnashing teeth will masticate the bones from the flesh”

[fernlessbastard]

Oh man, I'm excited! Writing is definitely a pain in the ass (I've taken many years of novels, creative writing, debate, etcetera). Your story is incredibly enthralling and so accurate in regards to characters, I'm surprised anyone would find anything (such as repetition of certain words) bothersome.

Nonetheless, I do understand wanting it to be perfect and I hope reading/proofing over it goes well for you two. ❤️

-🎲 anon

Thank you so muchh

And don't worry, it's not that my boyfriend finds it bothersome and such - it just knows that I'm an insane perfectionist about my writing, and if I later find some repetition or a wonky sentence I will proclaim that I've brought dishonour to writing as an art form and I'll never write again (I'm a little bit dramatic like that UwU--) (also I'd definitely end up writing again, it'd just take like a long time and I'd rather finish IUTMTM before the death of the universe/lh)

To be fair it is in a decent part that perfectionism that lets me write the way I do. Like, yes, writing badly is much better than not writing, and I do my best to live by that, but editing is a different issue - I've had at least 7 drafts of chapter 2 as of now (and I only change the draft when I decide there's a big part I want to rewrite from scratch)(I actually could post like the first draft here - that could be interesting, idk, I'll maybe consider it)

But yeah, I will slave over a draft until I've squeezed everything I humanly could out of it, in which case either I think it's actually genuinely good and I enjoy reading it (and I'm very critical of my work), or until I decide it's hopeless, and just simply rewrite it completely from scratch, either keeping only specific passages, the general idea, or sometimes nothing at all

Tbh I think it's got to do with the fact that it's not a medium that's "native" to me, so to speak. Losing Face was my first actual piece of writing, with my previous "attempts" (mostly stories for school) consisting of like, much less than a thousand word each. I started writing a dnf/xdnf smut after my bf dared me to, which got abandoned at 2k words (I low-key wanna post that at some point too as a little crack one-shot, but i'd have to decide if I want it to be an actual piece of writing, in which case I'd have to finish it, or if I just want it to be a "look, this is where I started" kind of thing). I was praised for my art, so I gravitated towards that, and the more I did, the more embarrassed and ashamed I felt of my unrealised "affair" with writing. I'd write elaborate descriptions of headcanons and scenarios, fishing for compliments to have an excuse to actually write something. I don't remember how I started truly writing, but it absolutely had to do with the support I always get from my partner. And oh god, how I adore writing. I've always loved telling a story, but what truly makes me obsessed with it is playing with language itself. I love painting mental pictures. I love elaborate metaphors. I love portraying ugliness in a raw way that paradoxically makes it strangely beautiful. I love the words that don't just express their message through literal meaning, but also through how they visually look, how they sound, what core and pre-/inter-/suffix they have, how many syllables they have (my favourite go-to example is in Will Wood's "Front Street" - "the gnashing teeth will masticate the bones from the flesh"); I love using those words to juxtapose feelings (such as describing something as both raw and ugly, and yet beautiful exactly because of that). I love portraying ugliness in a raw way that paradoxically makes it strangely beautiful. I love playing with rhythm and momentum and run-on sentences, I love playing with formatting, to make the text flow on the page, I love using subtle sarcasm and making fun of the characters and their flawed logic through a flat narrating tone, and I love sprinkling characters' unreliable, subjective thoughts with nothing to distinct them from the rest of the text aside italics (I think it's much more immersive, adds to a "pov" lets the narrative evolve with the way characters think, and allows for a better flow of the text that ""(...)" he thought"). I love having a narrator with that subtle sass where the "insults" are indirect. When I write, I have several tabs open with thesauruses and dictionaries, not because I don't know the words I use (I make sure to keep my language authentic and to not overuse complex words just because - they all have a purpose, and 99,99% of the words I look up I already know), but because if I look up synonyms/translations then I have all the possible words in front of me and I can compare exactly how they look and sound (I'm heavily visual, ironically enough). I love pulling from more common Polish metaphors/sayings to form a more elaborate, non-obvious sentence/metaphor in English, and I love using translating as a tool to look for synonyms/replacements that maybe aren't an obvious alternative. I love writing scenes that feel genuine and real, and including the "ugly", human parts. I love writing flawed characters, I love describing their inner worlds, I love writing their streams of consciousness - I love turning them into real people (to the best of my abilities).

I love writing for the process. And it's funny, cause I don't exactly have that with art always. I'll be honest - I don't always love sketching and doodling. I do love watercolours. I'm sure it's honestly visible in how I paint, but playing with colours, layering, shading, shapes, undertones, etc is just my favourite thing in the world. But doodling by itself? Heavily depends, and a good portion of the time I just want to see the doodle ready, or to skip to watercolours, if I'm painting (although recently I've been getting better at just enjoying the process). But writing? Sure, sometimes I just want it over with, but the only reason why I'm able to go through all the drafts and countless edits is because just like with watercolours, I simply love the process of perfecting it, even if it gets frustrating.

TLDR I absolutely adore writing as an art form, holy shit it's literally so cool and language is even cooler and just

Writing<333

OH also btw I have since checked my document, and I misremembered - chapter 2 is 8k words--

[eial-daily]

The gnashing teeth will masticate the bones from the flesh

Song: Front Street Words: 205-214/484

[im-a-sentient-magic-carpet]

my gnashing teeth will masticate the bones from your flesh babygirl

[cattailedits]

This chastity is Greek to me, the meat is still fresh The gnashing teeth will masticate the bones from the flesh Since nobody will tell me where these bastards go, I’ll see for myself I think they might go to hell

🔧 🔧 🔧

🔧 🔧 🔧

🔧 🔧 🔧

SOMEHOW NOT IMPOSSIBLE!!! A PERSON IS ACTUALLY MADE BETTER BY ALICES EXISTENCE. CANNOT ELABORATE SRY @pyxehastoomanyinterests

[ask-ufpapyrus]

For my Prompt WillSongTober

7. Front Street

Loose lips sink ships, but captain, will you go down?

Float your boat and overboard and hoping to drown

Tell me what prevented you from coming downtown all alone

Because we know you're not afraid

This chastity is Greek to me, the meat is still fresh

The gnashing teeth will masticate the bones from the flesh

Since nobody will tell me where these bastards go, I'll see for myself

I think they might go to hell

[misanthrapologist]

"Quick while she turns her back, slip it in!"

I'm in a meat-pack plant by the gutterside

A slaughterhouse apartment with a slice of lime

I'm cruisin' with the bruisers,

Boozin', I'll be a suitor, losing my mind

Because there's nothing to find

The fetid stench of bad intentions hangs in the sweat

I'm in a sauna hot with drama, and I'm tryin' to forget

All the masochistic rapture missteps

Imminent pleasure's ready to cut to the bone

You said, "Let loose, " but now you're lost

While I tied my boots like a tightrope noose

The problem chased the taste of the cause

While the evidence supports the truth, is 80 enough proof for you?

Here's to my lady, and I'm coming inside

Drink to me, baby, and what's left of what's right

It's easier to use and lose than never to have used you

On a fucked up Saturday night

Good times on Front Street!

On Front Street!

Loose lips sink ships, but captain, will you go down?

Float your boat and overboard and hoping to drown

Tell me what prevented you from coming downtown all alone

Because we know you're not afraid

This chastity is Greek to me, the meat is still fresh

The gnashing teeth will masticate the bones from the flesh

Since nobody will tell me where these bastards go, I'll see for myself

I think they might go to hell

You said, "Let loose, " but now you're lost

While I tied my boots like a tightrope noose

The problem chased the taste of the cause

While the evidence supports the truth, is 80 enough proof for you?

Here's to my lady, and I'm coming inside

Drink to me, baby, and what's left of what's right

It's easier to use and lose than never to have used you

On a fucked up Saturday night

Good times on Front Street!

On Front Street!

Yeah!

Aye, step right up folks!

Get yourself a big meaty fill

Of some of the most noxious, toxic, obnoxious, disgusting shitter world!

How vile can you be?!

Is 80 enough proof for you?

Here's to my lady, and I'm coming inside

Drink to me, baby, and what's left of what's right

It's easier to use and lose than never to have used you

On a fucked up Saturday night

Always a good time on Front Street

Last call for morals, better cover your drink

(On Front Street, yeah) Sodom and Gomorrah'd, let it go down the sink

(On Front Street, yeah) Last call for morals, better cover your drink

(On Front Street, yeah) Sodom and Gomorrah'd, let it go down the sink

Last call for morals, better cover your drink

Sodom and Gomorrah'd, let it go down the sink

Last call for morals, better cover your drink

Good times on Front Street!

[sdj-official-fictive]

Front Street fits Filthy Animals really well I didn't even mean this

"I'm in a meat-pack plant by the gutterside A slaughterhouse apartment with a slice of lime"

That's the Colony

"I'm cruisin' with the bruisers, boozin', I'll be a suitor, losing my mind Because there's nothing to find"

Could be read as Angus talking to Carolina in his car while they are driving to make a pickup

"The fetid stench of bad intentions hangs in the sweat I'm in a sauna hot with drama, and I'm tryin' to forget All the masochistic rapture missteps Imminent pleasure's ready to cut to the bone"

When they get back to Magnus' place and his introduction

"You said, "Let loose," but now you're lost While I tied my boots like a tightrope noose The problem chased the taste of the cause While the evidence supports the truth, is 80 enough proof for you?"

Carolina reporting back to the D.D.D., or a slight dig at her co-workers

"Here's to my lady, and I'm coming inside Drink to me, baby, and what's left of what's right It's easier to use and lose than never to have used you On a fucked up Saturday night Good times on Front Street"

You'll never believe this but. Magnus sucks to Carolina. Buuut you could also read this as the treatment of Magnus' "pets" and the other kidnapped dopples

"Loose lips sink ships, but captain, will you go down? Float your boat 'til overboard and hoping to drown"

Angus getting found out by his neighbours

"Tell me what prevented you from coming downtown all alone Because we know you're not afraid This chastity is Greek to me, the meat is still fresh The gnashing teeth will masticate the bones from the flesh"

Carolina getting found out as a double agent and getting thrown into Maws pit.

"Since nobody will tell me where these bastards go, I'll see for myself I think they might go to hell"

Magnus going out on his own dopple hunt

And the rest are repeat lyrics but "Last call for morals better cover your drink/Sodom and Gomorrahed let it go down the sink" could be cleaning up the place like. I am picturing a scene of carnage set to that.

OOOOOUGGGH YEAH. Also sorry for the late response i was at the bus-Bibi

[allegedlyfunny]

This chastity is Greek to me, the meat is still fresh The gnashing teeth will masticate the bones from the flesh Since nobody will tell me where these bastards go, I'll see for myself I think they might go to hell 🗣🗣🔥🔥🔥🔥

[paversandplatters]

|| 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙱𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚛 𝚘𝚏 𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚙|| (1/20)

Apocalypse! Au (TW! Minor gore and cussing)

Read x multiple

Chapter 1: Shortcut

“Would you please shut up for just one minute!?” She calls out behind the steering wheel, voice horse, and struggling to keep the battered SUV On the road, keeping speed and avoiding the now long forgotten vehicles left on the two lane road. Every part of her feels like it's on fire. Blood from the oozing wound on her scalp finds its way right into her eye, clouding her vision further.

“Told you we've just gotta put some distance between us and Calhoun, then we can pull over for medical attention ASAP. ” Her eyes quickly flit between the road and the rearview mirror trying to get a glimpse at George in the darkness of the back seat. The young man is leaning his head against the broken rear window as the Escalade rumbles past a cluster of figures milling about the edge of the road. A single glance tells her they're hunched over something- or rather what's left of someone. She pushes the thought from her mind and tries to assess George again. He catches her eyes in the mirror only to look away- blinking tears away and wheezing miserably, his free hand gripping the bloody remains of what was his shirt over his middle. No doubt covering the gaping wound there.

The broken window rattles, as a slip stream of wind tussles his now blood matted hair. Nick is sat next to him looking equally disheveled but still in one piece- save some scrapes and bruises.

“I-I can't breathe- I can't-” he stutters out cutoff by Nick’s sudden yelp as a wave of rotten gore sprays across the windshield. It's undeniable that the sight and smell is enough to stick with you for days but anyone that has struck a zombie with a car knows the worst part is the noise. Rather that is- the gore and rot engulfs all senses, sure, but it’s the sound that lives on in memory. It's a series of greasy crunching sounds that bring to mind the thunk of an axe through cords of rotting termite infested wood. A horrible symphony of sounds as the dead are grounded into paste beneath the moving chassis and thick wheels. A quick series of dull pops and cracks as liquefying organs and bladders are squished. Bones are turned to kindling and skulls crushed open and flattening, mercifully bringing an end to a treacherous pilgrimage. This hellish noise is the first thing that registers with her and the two men in the back seat of the battered Escalade.

Both let out another yelp of shock and revulsion, holding on to the seats with a vice like grip as the SUV bucks and fishtails across the now wet and slippery tarmac. Most of the cadavers go down like domino pieces, pulverized by 3 tons of careening Detroit metal. Some of the excess flesh and appendages stumble across the hood leaving a ghastly trail of rancid fluids on the windshield, other body parts go pinwheeling in the air arcing across the night Sky. It might have been humorous if their own situation wasn’t so dire…

She remains silent, hunched forward- her jaw set and eyes fixed on the road, her arms still wrestling with the jittering steering wheel as the massive vehicle goes into a skid. The engine revs and keens as it reacts to the loss of traction. The squeal of the huge steel belted radials adding to the din, hands yanking the wheel back the other way turning into the skid as best she can in order to avoid spinning out of control when she notices something that has gotten lodged in the gaping hole in her side window.

The disembodied head of a zombie only inches away from her left ear. It’s teeth chattering softly, somehow it got caught in the jagged maw of broken glass, gnashing its blackened incisors at her fixing it's ghostly milky gaze on her. The sight of it is so grisly and awful and yet so surreal- the creaking of the jaws snapping at her with the hollow autonomic force of a ventriloquist dummy. She lets out an involuntary chortle, one akin to a laugh but darker… she jerks her head away from the window. Registering over the space of a single instance the fact that the re-animated cranium was torn from its upper body upon impact with the SUV and now still continues to go on without it’s body, seeking living flesh… forever seeking, forever masticating swallowing and consuming, an impulse never satiated.

“Lookout!”

The scream comes from the flickering darkness of the rear seats. In all the excitement she can't identify the source. Wether it's Nick or George- the issue is moot because she mistakes the meaning of the cry and the split second during which her hand flies to the passenger seat and fishes through the contents of it rifling through Maps, candy wrappers, rope and tools- frantically searching for the 9 millimeter Glock- she assumes that the warning cry it is meant to lookout for the snapping jaws of the amputated head. She finally gets her hands on the grip of the Glock and wastes no time swinging it up with one fluid motion towards the window and squeezing off a single point blank shot into the grotesque face skewered there. The head comes apart with the blossom of pink mist, splitting like a melon and sending splatter of viscera into her hair before being launched into the wind, the vacuum left behind in the broken window throbs noisily adding to the din.

Less than 10 seconds have transpired since the initial impact but now she sees that reason that one of the men in the back gave such a warning- it's nothing to do with the reanimated head- what they were screaming about back there- thing that she was supposed to lookout for… is now looming on the opposite side of the highway coming up quick on their right closing. She feels the gravity shift as she swerves in order to avoid the mangled wreckage of a VW bug sliding across the gravel shoulder then plunges down into a steep embankment on the dark unknown wooden grove.

Pine barrows and foliage scrape and slap the windshield as the vehicle bangs and clambers on the rocky slope. The voices in the back rise into a frenzied screams

She feels the land level out and manages to keep the vehicle going long enough to find purchase in the mud- then slams down the accelerator and the Escalade lurches forward under its own power. The massive grill and gigantic tires grinding through the thickets cobbling over deadfalls, mowing down the wild undergrowth and tearing through the scrub as though it were smoke. for the seemingly endless minutes the bumpy ride threatens to encompass her spine and rupture her spleen. In the blurry image of the rear view she gets a brief glimpse of the two injured young men holding on to the back seats for fear of bouncing right out of the vehicle. The front end hits a log hard and the impact nearly cracks her teeth.

For a minute or so they swerve through a thin patch of trees. When they burst out of the brush, an explosion of dirt, leaves and particles- she sees that they've inadvertently come upon another unidentified two lane road. She slams the brakes causing the men to headbutt the seats with an audible ‘thwap.

She sits there for a second taking deep breaths, getting air back in her lungs. She looks around. The men in the back collectively groan and whine, now suddenly back into their seats, holding themselves. The engine idles noisily, a new rattling sound is introduced to the low rumble- probably bearing a knocked loose in the improvised off-road adventure.

“Okay-“ she starts softly “that's one hell of a shortcut”

The only response for the backseat is silence- the humor lost on the two young men. Above them a black opaque sky is just beginning to lighten with the purple of a pre-dawn glow in the dull light. They can just see enough detail to now realize that they've landed across an access road and the woods have given way to wetlands. To the East she can see the a canal winding through a fog, probably leading to the edge of a swamp and to the West a rust pocket sign says state road ‘505- 3 miles’ no sign of roamers in either direction.

[nho-jungle]

MCYT Masterlist

posted to the pseud nhojungle on ao3.

---

Dream SMP

light as a feather (caught in between) - dsmp. found family. hybrids. enderman hybrid ranboo helps find tubbo a new home. word count: 4,673.

i can love myself (i just need to learn it) - dsmp. eret & foolish queerplatonic partners. modern au. gender feels + dancing in the kitchen. word count: 1,630.

the gnashing teeth will masticate (the bones from the flesh) - dsmp. character study of quackity, las nevadas, and the places on the dsmp. word count: 1,005.

and you can listen (to glass hearts shattering) - dsmp x hermitcraft crossover. tubbo on hermitcraft. #glass hearts au. chapters: 16/26 (discontinued). word count: 24,353. [#glass hearts au]

down my throat (and made a home in my veins) - dsmp/2b2t/hypixel. tubbo’s backstory. #glass hearts au. word count: 2,389. [#glass hearts au]

Hermitcraft

mostly void (partially stars) - hermitcraft. watcher!grian finding his place in the universe (and in the server). also soulmates. chapters: 6/6. word count: 8,001. [#watcher!grian]

it all depends (on how you battle with the pressure) - hermitcraft. emotional hurt/comfort with neurodivergent mumbo (and grian). word count: 2,359.

i prayed, i prayed (god sent me right to voicemail) - hermitcraft. etho rejoins season 7 but something’s wrong. bdubs gets haunted by his nightmares. chapters: 11/11. word count: 9,381.

i felt the sun rise up (and swallow me) - hermitcraft. fluff with neurodivergent etho and bdubs. word count: 1,376.

don’t talk about the weather (i wanna know what makes you sick) - hermitcraft. tango/etho/bdubs. hurt/comfort etho gets hypothermia. word count: 1,394.

another wave of tension (has more than filled me up) - hermitcraft. hurt/comfort with neurodivergent etho and ren. word count: 1,095.

my skin, it is paper thing (scribble “fragile” on my temples) - hermitcraft. tango/etho/keralis. chronic pain. word count: 1,800.

lost my halo (now i’m my own antichrist) - hermitcraft. welsknight angst. word count: 1,129.

made of cross-stitch hearts (and patchwork love) - hermitcraft. wels & grian wingfic. word count: 1,551

ivy is wrapping around my chest (and saying it only wants the best) - hermitcraft. tango health anxiety hurt/comfort. word count: 1,952

dig up some flesh (with plenty of mold) - mindcrack, hermitcraft. nho superhero au, team canada backstory. word count: 3,292 [#superpowers au]

i have no more (than all you left of me) - mindcrack, hermitcraft. nho superhero au, bdubs backstory. word count: 2,251 [#superpowers au]

Empires SMP

every end of the time (is another begun) - empires smp. joel is the only one who remembers 3rd life and x life. word count: 1,105.

craft my words to fit your head (cuz no one listens to the dead) - empires smp. fwhip/pix. pix-centric post-dragon fight crisis. word count: 2,950.

when every star fall (brought you to tears again) - empires smp. end of the world joel & pixl fluff. word count: 1,686.

Traffic Life Series

a teenage vow in a parking lot (’til tonight do us part) - last life. etho/bdubs. character/relationship study. word count: 1,107.

[skyllion-uwu]

I'm in a meat-pack plant by the gutterside

A slaughterhouse apartment with a slice of lime

I'm cruisin' with the bruisers

Boozin', I'll be a suitor, losing my mind

Because there's nothing to find

The fetid stench of bad intentions hangs in the sweat

I'm in a sauna hot with drama and I'm tryin' to forget

All the masochistic rapture mis-steps

Imminent pleasure's ready to cut. To the bone

You said "let loose!" But now you're lost

While I tied my boots like a tightrope noose

The problem chased the taste of the cause

While the evidence supports the truth

Is 80 enough proof for you?

Here's to my lady and I'm coming inside

Drink to me baby, and what's left of what's right

It's easier to use and lose than never to have used you

On a fucked up Saturday night

Good times on Front Street

On Front Street

Loose lips sink ships, but captain, will you go down?

Float your boat and overboard and hoping to drown

Tell me what prevented you from coming downtown all alone

Because we know you're not afraid

This chastity is Greek to me, the meat is still fresh

The gnashing teeth will masticate the bones from the flesh

Since nobody will tell me where these bastards go, I'll see for myself

I think they might go to hell

You said "let loose!" But now you're lost

While I tied my boots like a tightrope noose

The problem chased the taste of the cause

While the evidence supports the truth

Is 80 enough proof for you?

Here's to my lady and I'm coming inside

Drink to me baby, and what's left of what's right

It's easier to use and lose than never to have used you

On a fucked up Saturday night

Good times on Front Street

On Front Street

(And they completely goddamn disrespected me!

Little idiots! Idiots! I was completely respectful.

They're supposed to be my brothers, right? They're my brothers?

No, no, that's not fun. What they were doing wasn't fun.

They kept zapping us and zapping us.

Idiots! Savages! Idiots! Idiots!)

(Aye, step right up, folks!

Get yourself a big, meaty fill

Of some of the most noxious, toxic, obnoxious, disgusting shit around!

How vile can you be?)

IS 80 ENOUGH PROOF FOR YOU?

Here's to my lady and I'm coming inside

Drink to me baby, and what's left of what's right

It's easier to use and lose than never to have used you

On a fucked up Saturday night

Always a good time

On Front Street (LAST CALL FOR MORALS)

(BETTER COVER YOUR DRINK)

On Front Street (SODOM AND GOMORRA'D)

(LET IT GO DOWN THE SINK)

On Front Street (LAST CALL FOR MORALS)

(BETTER COVER YOUR DRINK)

On Front Street (SODOM AND GOMORRA'D)

(LET IT GO DOWN THE SINK)

Good times on Front Street!

[agent-black-heart]

[Icarus continues to sing as Owen uses the spell he sees Icarus soul, or maybe souls? A small light grey sphere surrounded by black.]

Loose lips sink ships, but general, will you go down?

Float your boat 'til overboard and hoping to drown!

Tell me what prevented you from coming downtown all alone?

We all know that you're not afraid!

This chastity is Greek to me, the meat is still fresh! The gnashing teeth will masticate the bones from the flesh.

Since nobody will tell me where these bastards go, I'll see for myself.

I think they might go to hell!

You said, "Let loose, " but now you're lost.

While I tied my boots like a tightrope noose.

The problem chased the taste of the cause~

While the evidence supports the truth, is 80 enough proof for you?

Here's to my lady, and I'm coming inside!

Drink to me, baby, and what's left of what's right!

It's easier to use and lose than never to have used you on a fucked up Saturday night!

Good times on Front Street!

On Front Street~, yeah!

[Coming from the parking lot, Owen walks towards the park's entrance while typing a few messages. He stows his phone away to buy a ticket and then enter Watcher World.]

-@agent-carvour

[Once he’s in Watcher World he can hear an automated announcer voice.]

Hello boys and girls! I hope your having a wonderful time here at Watcher World! Come ride the tear jerker! The most dangerous roller coaster you’ll ever be on! And remember to come see The Amazing Singing Icarus who’s next show is in one minute.

[lyricalshrimps]

This chastity is Greek to me, the meat is still fresh

The gnashing teeth will masticate the bones from the flesh

Since nobody will tell me where these bastards go I'll see for myself

I think they might go to Hell

(Front Street, Will Wood)