And they talk. And they walk. In their silver. Boots, in their Silver. Deadlifts, all alone. They own. The Pequod, the Pingu, the Pangu. All by myself. I’ve got my own Rover. By the cabin door. Radio on. She has lyrics. You should hear them. Who are you. Moonless night. Empty hand. Empty heart. Nobody answers when you call. You’re on your own tonight. Alone with your thoughts and your dreams. Out in the middle of nowhere. To grow. When the moon was new, it made a noise. Sometimes it sounds like Pangu. Not anymore. Thanks to the Internet.