I Say So many Possible Possibilities that have infinite abilities to conjure a multitude of seamlessly seeming singing ringings coming from somewhere no one knows, but they enjoy the ringing cause it gift’s them with thought’s no one dare bestows. For if one single man/women was to know this ringing he or she or she or he would only wish for the rest to get there best. And the only kind of best is when the rest have confessed that all they ever wanted was to get it on with all of the people in that old village. Oh after that day of ringing all there was was people moaning, and yelling to be saved by pleasure and be taken away from guilt, all that was left of that town was the clothes the people wore. Some say they fucked themselves away.