Open on the amazon, hide the cure for cancer. I’m Lance Armstrong, you’re the necromancer. Slash n’ burn, crash into the 42nd answer, all my fellow skeletons adore the army ants here. Flies on my eyeballs, scabs on my elbows. Heaven knows God’s sittin’ up there like “Hell no!” Only one thing comes to those who wait. Is it too late to embrace your fate? My death come swiftly and gently to you. Mayhem, cry mayday, and oncoming doom. Save your convictions, they never will do. What you say’s at least 1/6 billionth true. You bare a striking resemblance. Some kind of semblance of somethin’ I been rememberin’. You appear familiar dear. You look just like my bathroom mirror. Please policeman- no heel-to-toe. Oh please, let me go! Please police- is it a test? I won’t know till I’m under arrest.