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Fog rises, the tent grows from the ground, a great red and yellow striped thing, massive, chaotic, sprung from the womb of the worlds underbelly as though to harken in an age of ill repute and distrust.
The Clown has awoken, his jowls strethed to a thing not to be trusted, his teeth, a mismash of sharpened fangs and many a poor souls true ending.
He is the Clown, the jester, the messenger of death. And he beckons you, harkens from a dream lost long ago, for you to follow him into the wastes, thei nner sanctum of his grave, his world, his entire purpose.
you walk past many horror, unspeakable things of many deformities, lost things o the human condition as DNA rapidly creates transgression after transgression all that should have long ago been a holy thing.
You reach the center of the center ring, a thing of rotted wood, inscribed with runes, blood pouring from the rough and hewn grooves. A dark presence beckons you forth as a gathering of skeletal hands and arms, still covered with the fresh wounds of their former owners. They wrap together, forming a pillar, and growing from thatn ightmarish thing, a book.
Bound in the shredded intestinces of psychotics and the mentally unstable, inked in the blood of children who's innocence was lost long before their time, and its pages made from the crushed bones and dreams of virgins who've yet to makel ove for the first time.
There are five verses, five curses.
you fate is to read them
You shall know of him by the sound of his voice.
"Hello, I'm ColossalisCrazy, and this... Is the Baited podcast."
[[Verse 01: Online Purgatory]]
[[Verse 02: Intellectualism Schism]]
[[Verse 03: Broken Play buttons]]
[[Verse 04: Voice channel Chaos]]
[[Verse 05: Ogering the Trolls.]]Look all those 360 repeaters on XB trying to no scope the king of these tired tropes
Always in the same map, never giving a crap if they only hit that tap of life
Trying to impress those stone heads of henge getting bent out of shape when someone mentions
That their game is weak, tired and dying, like that last struggle of a trickshotter lying
Trying to tie for first in the worst way, no innovation no invention no evolution
Always Black Ops 2 in the noon with some broken chips and moms soda pop trying to trick shot the same bots
Same game, different way, different lane too late as their life flash before their eyes
Ten years past too late as tehy get into a game so lame it's stales like bread left in bacteria ridden oil
This community just copies and pastes, lays waste to new plans by new clans
[11:00 AM] Morgan Gavin: No time to stay chaste as their gamer scores rise and job options fall they all call to the ghost of CoD
And pray they make it rain the dollars as they all hollar racist things as arros and slings get lost in the ring
Clans pay to play are fake as fuck boi, no luclk to tuck their nonexistent children in as they plug in for the final time
Their heart monitors mine as the reaper of souls plays online, and yet I see the totality of every thing
The gamers stare, the drool hanging in air as the matrix takes them in as one flashy knife skin or another is laid bare
They clamber and screech and rage and preach as clans fall and rise, trash talk mocks and despises
turning friend to enemy back to allie and their hopes for the future as caught in a twisted nightmare
Too plain and too scared to go outside and play, run in the fields, let their minds be seen, brilliant and keen
To the great goblin keem no less a troll and trope, a Gnome with no hope, a failed gamer in halo
makes news by shooting holes in those he percieves to be better in ways he may never chain together in this reality
Ever on repeat never on pause this clause for online claws to come out and play seems degraded to the online graves
Servers deleted, lost, devolved at what cost will this online holocaust cause clans to pause and unplug
[[Worship his name.]]
[[Verse 02: Intellectualism Schism]]
[[Verse 03: Broken Play buttons]]
[[Verse 04: Voice channel Chaos]]
[[Verse 05: Ogering the Trolls.]] To say and slay these thoughts and stash them online, to drool over shit lost in the mind with details so fine
To know the heights of the human mind and only be seen as to have weighed down so heavy in their time
Causes stress fractures and retractions of actions lost in todays grain
The feeling that no matter how sane the gain in knowledge may be all they care about is trying to beat
The high score, the number one slot, the the aimless gain to be king of the hill but not
The stimulation of the human brain that I deliver, only to be detained with a shiver and still no cracks to be seen
Still no library of intelligent thought as these thotts are brought to their knees by the blinding realities
Outside of their homes and discord chats they're nothing but street rats to be hurried away
Back to their glowing caves to seek out depraved names for memes too shocking to be real
they worship a devil king a face of lies, too tired and retarded to even keep hope alive
the evolution of thought is a strained locomotion, brought to a screeching halt by the massive online ocean
They see only slights and disses and remarks to be sharpened, hardened and relived through constant bitching
Connections, misunderstandings, irritations, revelations, relations, e dates doxxed to deflate
No humor in the room, no pink elephant to exhume, no lost intelligence to preseume
Great and small, reprehensible to all, a cataclysmic nightfall of deep thought
Creating craters of bad negotiators and awful critics of Artists struggling to recreat her
We remain connected and ill collected in pocket worlds only half respected
My own mind a repository for insightful things
Brought forht by delightful meanderings
Observed by others as the Jester's rise and the Knights fall of a ever maddening meme
Too rapid fire to care, too rapid response to know, to lit up by Jake Paulers to seriously grow
These are the last bonds that sowed the seeds of the online holocaust,
Where bright ideas are round up, put in server farms where they are starved, left to rot,
Devolving idealism for the contempary racist, saying the n word to appease only the basic
No talent or time, no anger to sublime, no friction to cause greater diction or the exploration of our smarter minds
[[Worship his name.]]
[[Verse 01: Online Purgatory]]
[[Verse 03: Broken Play buttons]]
[[Verse 04: Voice channel Chaos]]
[[Verse 05: Ogering the Trolls.]] Spiritually, socially, physically,mystically, the commentary and drama community relives high school
forced to sit and forced to feed off the ramblings of a few greats to the lower depths of hades
Where greater commentary gods do sleep, lost to the ether by those that simply repeat
A repition of lies, half truths, and rumors, growing the ever hateful cancerous tumor,
No more screaming hate, no more denying facts, no more uneducated guesses by four foot tall ex radio DJ hacks
This breaking the chain and causing a chain reaction to actions taken world wide
To see with ripped apart eyes and broken camera lenses the fractures senses of where humanities path truly lies
A darkened soul from a circus performer with a lack luster role,
Clown to all but Oliver Queen to none
His insanity must be called crazy, for his shadow is Colossal, but his humanity is all but won
Gone too far, stretched too thin, spread too much with that evil fucking grin
A face revealed only in time, a maker of toys, but in his own ways a saner man than Santa could ever find
The morally uptight, the left opinion falls, when the right hands strikes pen to paper, the Right Opinion rises over all
The Youtubers YouTuber, an instrument of deconstruction and destruction,
An exploration of the self and self appeasement as laid to waste, they chase a reflection of the soul of YouTube in Yoo's Tuba before the videos close
A Block of slime slapped with loose skin, RuBlox is Minecrafter but way worse then you can imagine,
Broken through phsycis, colcially unaccepted
Minecraft players play this game to get off when no ones looking
The Commentary community much like glee, spreading what news they can before everyone screams
No justice for the blue bird, no falcon punch for the lies,
No respect for the hundred forty characters of online soap operas at a rise,
We seek justice for none, but respite for all, re know the dreams of intelligence,
but for ignorant short thoughts they do fall
Drama, commentary, all the same shit too little truth and facts, too little civil war for these Sidemen
[[Worship his name.]]
[[Verse 01: Online Purgatory]]
[[Verse 02: Intellectualism Schism]]
[[Verse 04: Voice channel Chaos]]
[[Verse 05: Ogering the Trolls.]] In discord there's order, in the chaos lies, in the hall of the mountain king, when the mountain talks, he is despised
In the written word we hear the thoughts and opinions of those in dominion, or those of high ranks
those high ranks becoming tanks for the gamers graveyard for the hatefilled ways,
The trolls re-explore the rage quitting game by interrupting a thought or two of the same
Those little children should be in bed causing nightmares to play out in their head
Lost in the discord of voicing their broken technology in the live stream
Insulting, berating, rumor spreading, ever hating, dreaming of humiliating those that simply wish to renegotiate
the long standing undermining of anothers physical thought brought to a screeching thought by ignorant little shits,
Brought to level by the thought of the mountain king's split, leaving the trolls to control the cunt role
As their leader sits in their own shit, inexplicably drawn, underlyingly wrong,
too terrible at the job to tell them to knock it the fuck off
In rage we seek, in dementia we keep, in loss of sanity we break bread and then hit repeat
Drama for long, medium and short of the same, no respect, always the same
Place the blame on the elder, call themselves Autistic, an insult to the ones that ACTUALLY have it
A sword of Damnable John Cleese hangs over their heads, the trolls racing to the racist graves marked by their own stench
No matter the thoughts that proceed, or the ways we preceade, the trolls keep screeching their recited and practiced beliefs
I, of the eye, of the outsider writer, standing trial for the misscontrued rumors of one idiot teen,
Spreading her too far tumors where none are needed
A block and a ban, a strong swift hand, to take away that which gave her command
Only more recently has this Reordered Discord Chaos be retrieved,
Forever more, a loss of trolls has hailed the signal of the mountain king(edited)
[[Worship his name.]]
[[Verse 01: Online Purgatory]]
[[Verse 02: Intellectualism Schism]]
[[Verse 03: Broken Play buttons]]
[[Verse 05: Ogering the Trolls.]] They scream and rage, complaining, rattling their cages, as if their world had been broken into by the Ogres and sages
Time honored traditions broken with rendition, rending of the virtual flesh with no real surrender conditions
Broken rules equal broken bonds and bones, the trolls scream and flee theire once proud home
The Ogre King's God returns with a club made with the skulls of thousands of trolls bound and plugged
They scream and rage, their virtual skin flayed, bleeding their digital curses from beyond a digital grave
The trolls sign off, too god damned afraid, if the Ogre King's God returned, whatever will they say,
A record of their language, transcribed and rpelayed, defeats the trolls own voices, for their mistakes they have dearly paid
by their own hand, trolls haved sowed for years, when the Ogre King's God returns, they rush to avoid the reaping,
Their crops sullied and soiled, their minds broken and boiled, their souls slowly crushed anc foiled
They scream, they rage, return to their cages, unaware that those steely bars being dropped wont be their saving grace
The Ogre King's God, the responsible mod, the enforcer of rules, the return of the king, the two towers fall
The hero dies in all, the trolls becoming skeletons, blocked from spreading their cancer at all.
[[Worship his name.]]
[[Verse 01: Online Purgatory]]
[[Verse 02: Intellectualism Schism]]
[[Verse 03: Broken Play buttons]]
[[Verse 04: Voice channel Chaos]]