I was Bramone A. Stone. I started with no enemies of my own. I was an artiste in a tunnel. But I've been having a midi life crisis. And I've been dreaming of sleep. And ape men with metal parts. I've spat upon deeply felt age. I've eaten my heart's skin. And I've ate the honey-colored English. We'll creep together, you and I. For I know who the small friends are. I am with men. I am with men. I am the bone of a stone. A nightmare female. A good-timing drone. I am with men. I am with men. I am with men. I am with men. I am the bone of a stone. And she should say, twitch and scream. It'll end in chrome. The night of the female good-time drone. I am with men. I am Ramone A. Stone. And she should say, I am with men. I am Ramone A. Stone. A voice that loses a name. Feels anxiety descending. Left at the crossroads between the centuries. Millennium fetish. I am with men. I am with men. I am Ramone A. Stone. I am with men. Nightmare female. Good-timing drone. I am with men. I am Ramone A. Stone. I am Ramone A. Stone. Anxiety descending. Anxiety descending. Anxiety descending.