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    We're a ship without a storm Cold without the warm Light inside the darkness lit at peace We're a laugh without a tear Hope without the fear We are coming home We're off to the witch We may never never never come home But the magic that we'll feel is worth a lifetime We're all born upon the cross We're the throw before the toss You can release yourself but the only way is down We don't come alone We are fire we are stone We're the hand that writes and quickly moves away We'll know for the first time If we're evil or divine We're the last in line, yeah We're the last in line Two eyes from the east It's the angel of the beast And the answer lies between all good and bad We search for the truth We could die upon the tooth But the thrill of just the chase is worth the pain We'll know for the first time If we're evil or divine We're the last in line yeah We're the last in line oh Yeah We're off to the witch We may never never never come home But the magic that we'll feel is worth a lifetime We're all born upon the cross You know, we're the throw before the toss You can release yourself but the only way is down We'll know for the first time If we're evil or divine We're the last in line oh We're the last in line See how we shine We're the last in We're the last in line We're a ship without a storm We're cold inside the warm We're the last without a tear We're the throw without the meal We're the last in line See how we shine We're the last in line

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    More prompts from cthulhu11

    I also stood in Satan’s bosom & beheld its desolatons: A ruin’d Man, a ruin’d building of God not made with hands; Its plains of burning sand, its mountains of marble terrible; Its pits & declivities flowing with molten ore & fountains Of pitch & nitre; its ruin’d palaces & cities & mighty works; Its furnaces of affliction, in which his Angels & Emanations Labour with blacken’d visages among its stupendous ruins, Arches & pyramids & porches, colonnades & domes, In which dwells Mystery, Babylon; here is her secret place; From hence she comes forth on the Churches in delight; Here is her Cup fill’d with its poisons, in these horrid vales, And here her scarlet Veil woven in pestilence & war; Here is Jerusalem bound in chains, in the Dens of Babylon.
    A pulp romance novel, Cover is a man with a mustache wearing a suit an tie in a public restroom stall. Looking down at the gloryhole. Title "Brent can't fit in the Gloryhole..." Subtitle "...that's why we all like Brent!
    We're a ship without a storm Cold without the warm Light inside the darkness lit at peace We're a laugh without a tear Hope without the fear We are coming home We're off to the witch We may never never never come home But the magic that we'll feel is worth a lifetime We're all born upon the cross We're the throw before the toss You can release yourself but the only way is down We don't come alone We are fire we are stone We're the hand that writes and quickly moves away We'll know for the first time If we're evil or divine We're the last in line, yeah We're the last in line Two eyes from the east It's the angel of the beast And the answer lies between all good and bad We search for the truth We could die upon the tooth But the thrill of just the chase is worth the pain We'll know for the first time If we're evil or divine We're the last in line yeah We're the last in line oh Yeah We're off to the witch We may never never never come home But the magic that we'll feel is worth a lifetime We're all born upon the cross You know, we're the throw before the toss You can release yourself but the only way is down We'll know for the first time If we're evil or divine We're the last in line oh We're the last in line See how we shine We're the last in We're the last in line We're a ship without a storm We're cold inside the warm We're the last without a tear We're the throw without the meal We're the last in line See how we shine We're the last in line
    I also stood in Satan’s bosom & beheld its desolatons: A ruin’d Man, a ruin’d building of God not made with hands; Its plains of burning sand, its mountains of marble terrible; Its pits & declivities flowing with molten ore & fountains Of pitch & nitre; its ruin’d palaces & cities & mighty works; Its furnaces of affliction, in which his Angels & Emanations Labour with blacken’d visages among its stupendous ruins, Arches & pyramids & porches, colonnades & domes, In which dwells Mystery, Babylon; here is her secret place; From hence she comes forth on the Churches in delight; Here is her Cup fill’d with its poisons, in these horrid vales, And here her scarlet Veil woven in pestilence & war; Here is Jerusalem bound in chains, in the Dens of Babylon.
    Colonel Sanders giant chicken fight
    As above, so below All things come from the one Now you are the victim Carried by the wind, rooted in the ground If you want to learn the secrets Close your eyes The ladder falls away At the gates of Urizen Fallen eagles blaze At the gates of Urizen Eternal twins are damned At the gates of Urizen Separate lives begin In every woman is a man From the moon come silver ghosts Spectres of the blood From my spirit comes the darkness From the void, the crimson fortress rises At the gates of Urizen The ladder falls away At the gates of Urizen Fallen eagles blaze At the gates of Urizen Eternal twins are damned At the gates of Urizen Separate lives begin At the gates of Urizen The ladder falls away At the gates of Urizen Fallen eagles blaze At the gates of Urizen Eternal twins are damned At the gates of Urizen Separate lives begin At the gates of Urizen The gates of Urizen The gates of Urizen At the gates...
    Mr Rogers, wearing a red sweater, slacks, loafers, attacking a large city, crushing buildings throwing cars, electric breath. Being attacked by tanks and fighter jets
    Man sitting at a computer says ,"Oh look Civitai is down." Woman walking by says, "Must be Tuesday." without looking back.
    A pulp romance novel, Cover is a man with a mustache wearing a suit an tie in a public restroom stall. Looking down at the gloryhole. Title "Brent can't fit in the Gloryhole..." Subtitle "...that's why we all like Brent!
    I also stood in Satan’s bosom & beheld its desolatons: A ruin’d Man, a ruin’d building of God not made with hands; Its plains of burning sand, its mountains of marble terrible; Its pits & declivities flowing with molten ore & fountains Of pitch & nitre; its ruin’d palaces & cities & mighty works; Its furnaces of affliction, in which his Angels & Emanations Labour with blacken’d visages among its stupendous ruins, Arches & pyramids & porches, colonnades & domes, In which dwells Mystery, Babylon; here is her secret place; From hence she comes forth on the Churches in delight; Here is her Cup fill’d with its poisons, in these horrid vales, And here her scarlet Veil woven in pestilence & war; Here is Jerusalem bound in chains, in the Dens of Babylon.
    "Oh, God of Earth and Altar Bow down and hear our cry Our earthly rulers falter Our people drift and die The walls of gold entomb us The swords of scorn divide Take not thy thunder from us Take away our pride" Just a babe in a black abyss No reason for a place like this The walls are cold and souls cry out in pain An easy way for the blind to go A clever path for the fools who know The secret of the Hanged Man, the smile on his lips The light of the blind You'll see The venom tears my spine The Eyes of the Nile are opening You'll see She came to me with a serpent's kiss As the Eye of the Sun rose on her lips Moonlight catches silver tears I cry So we lay in a black embrace And the seed is sown in a holy place And I watched, and I waited for the dawn The light of the blind You'll see The venom that tears my spine The Eyes of the Nile are opening You'll see Go Bind all of us together Ablaze with hope and free No storm or heavy weather Will rock the boat you'll see The time has come to close your eyes And still the wind and rain For the one who will be king Is the watcher in the ring It is You, oh It is You
    A hundred confused monkeys standing a round a large broken computer wearing shirts and hats that say "Civitai Maintenance"
    n1ghtm@r3, strange city in the distance, light rays, cape, landscape, fog, red theme, monster silhouette in background, flying beasts. stormy weather
    The burning sweat of poison tears The river flowing red with blood The cradle-robbing hand of death Caresses every dreaming head Waiting for the marriage hearse To take you to the funeral pyre So you burn the family tree The generations burning higher Stand inside the temple As the book of Thel is opening The priestess stands before you Offering her hand out, rising Come the dawning of the dead In famine and in war Now the harlot womb of death Spits out its rotten core By the pricking of my thumbs Something wicked this way comes And when sleep takes you tonight Will you wake to see the light? Come the dawning of the dead Come the dawning of the dead Come the dawning of the dead Come the dawning of the dead What demon hath formed this abominable void This soul-shuddering vacuum? Some said it is Urizen But unknown, abstracted, brooding secret The dark power hid
    Drunk Transformers, very very drunk, empty beer cans and bottles, wasted.
    A hundred confused monkeys standing a round a large broken computer wearing shirts and hats that say "Civitai Maintenance"
    Movie poster, image of an a large muscular man with a blonde crewcut, wearing a ripped button up shirt. Gun holsters, grenade belt. A giant machine gun in both hands. Smoking a cigar. Title "McBain" credits on bottom
    Mr Rogers, wearing a red sweater, slacks, loafers, attacking a large city, crushing buildings throwing cars, electric breath. Being attacked by tanks and fighter jets
    A child's golden book title "Snacks stop running!" Cover of book is Cthulhu chasing terrified children across a beach
    Realistic highly detailed photo of Batman and the Joker ballroom dancing
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