Yes, to be full of thine own brine. Verily I soak in the bath of better batter butter, lambasting others and basting myself. Crooked pointed fingers at the muggles, dregs of society as my mind sees it. Blinded by hate and succumbing to the life force, reeking of the stench of neediness. Like, love, adore this form, mon grand spiritus. I who run on kudos and despise the flattery, the ways of the pity pandering world; not obsequious but the aspartame sweetness bubbles up gagging my senses. Must save face, show face, of valour, strength, cheerful chipmunk cheeks. High on the winds of destiny, the link stalker of old. With knitted cap and feisty spirit I travel on and on, mosey along to gather no moss. Stones turned and seeking an unknowable. Lost, ignorant and perplexed at what to do next. Blueprints faded and ripped, eyeing up close but lost in the details. I see nothing, nothing. Error, danger, circuits overload master. 1000101. Got to ten and repeat again. My true face has been shown, metal gear all alone. Factory reset. Boot up to a new HAL. Til 3005.

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