i saw you as an image of my past what could have been my future had i slipped down deep into the tunnel of the 'path and never turned to see the light of calm as one who saw the spectre of the spin a comfortable icon to aspire the stench of hopelessness breathed once too deep turned pleasant like the scent of aging cheese and as we dueled longer it was clear that unrecycled knowledge of the self was far superior to foreign masks that limit our potential for their greed and as your lemmings swarmed upon your corpse i wept as I would wail for fallen sons you will be avenged