portal seven

The people were believing a lie.
Their eyes were blind.
They had no ears to hear.
They were living a lie.
They were all cogs in the machine
of the Black Iron Prison.
Or were they? It was difficult to tell.
At nights I went to see Rachel.
She was beautiful but sad, with long, dark hair.
That was before everything changed –
before the Grooves, before the Tower.

The Tower of the One Song.

Attention, all Prisoners of the Black Iron Prison This is God Incarnate, Motherfuckers. There’s Only One Church. Everyone is in it. I’m here to Take on the Suffering of the World. I have assumed control. I have assumed control.