Weary minds suffice a labotomatic glow. Boredom lingers as the room’s paint peels a spriteful fairy dust. Just audible blasting from a chirpy bird gone morning crow. We’re stuck with sanitation in a blue box world, calling it my circular damage. Einstein quoted stupidity so where’s the intel inside? Project level danger, illuminate the sky your disaster hue. Just to know there’s. Just to know their, chances.