We will live in a world of hate, where machine men do our bidding. And Portugese Manowar will dance to our delight. Mastodon and meatloaf will be the only things on the menu at our eateries. There will not a ministry, for that would signify a bad religion. The Mob rules in our land. In fact, the mob deep inside our ranks will provide us with security. The Montgomery gentry will provide us will no problems, for they fear destruction. Our buildings will be mighty and tall, I heard straight from the mouth of the architect. Municipal waste will be taken care of, so as to avoid another toxic holocaust due to the poison. I heard a mystic prophecy that we will be rich like kings! We will live in a new Eden (so much like that paradise lost) Nightingales will, as well as sparrows, swarm and sing for our pleasure. The night ranger will grant us a weekly night wish. You could even ride up Pegazus if you so wished, maybe do a loopty-loop, or a perfect circle around the sky. I will be king, and you will be prince. We shall plant green carnations and porcupine trees. We shall be anti-mercy, and pro-pain. A Rainbow shall adorn our banner, a black flag, and we will kill anyone that is anti-flag, the shall hang from a red chord, tied into a slip knot.
But we are in no rush to achieve this perfection. The shades of twilight will again shine on our fortunes, even as the sky swallows the sun, OH! You are a strapping young lad, not the average candy stryper that was once my sworn enemy. Yes, indeed.
Oh, and we better hurry up: the sleepytime gorilla museum closes at 4:20, and I still have to pick up a new cable for my weedeater.