The halls have ears: no form, the walls are sheer. I'm torn between paying and laying down.
Colony collapse: a rash of unborn promise, the crash of a toxic premise. I'd be remiss if I didn't address it.
It's only a momentary lapse: you're forgiven for thinking I'd forget. Even a lost cause deserves a first kiss.
They've got a polite secret: a white bread manner and a curious stammer when you ask what they're here for.