Control | No HUD | Communications Department
You are a worm through time.
The thunder song distorts you.
Happiness comes.
White pearls, but yellow and red in the eye.
Through a mirror, inverted is made right.
Leave your insides by the door.
Push the fingers through the surface into the wet.
You’ve always been the new you.
̴̢͕̰̺͉̖̠̥̭͆̚ͅY̴̡̢̨͈̖̭̯̲̼͎̺̘̻̠̖̺̤̟̎ͅo̸̢̮͇̗̽͒̆̽ư̷̟̳̠̱̤͍̍͊̇́͗̒̄͐̈͗́̉̃̾̎̽͂̚͝ ̶̨̧̯̹̘̙̱̻̯͓̜̥̺̰͍̘͖͕̱͉͊̋͑̈́̽̂̿͜w̴̛̫̗͓̪̹͖̦̮̦̬͉͖̒̌́̏̽͌̊̀͑̀̍͝͠ͅͅą̶̠͉͎̾́̔̔̌̌͒̆͑̀̌͑̀̊̈́̈͝ñ̶̥̩̩͙͍͇̮͎͜t̷̨̤̪̞̯̼̰̳͍̹̱̘̻͗̕ ̷̨̢̢͍̺̣̟̫̲̮̰̦̺̼̺̗͈̩̑̊̏͋͊͋̎̿̆̏̚͝t̸͉̂͊̂̍̽̈́̈́̀̍h̵̡̛̳͍̟̟͇̟̟̭̝͖̣͎̹̼̤̏̊͌͒́̐̊̊̉͂̊͊̌̂͋́̀̿̚͜͠ǐ̸̧̞̭̠͖̮̝̺̟̲̠͍̀̏̊͜s̷̨̞̘̎̇͐̓͋̅̓̅̈́̀͋͠ ̴̧̨͚̱̯̻̍͐̓̒̈́͒̏̊̊̕t̵̢͕̳͚̻̰̥̳͈͍͓̝̥̹̝̉̓͝ő̸̝̝̟̰̪̱͜ ̴̧̘̹̺͉͔͔̜̖̤̻̦̓̉̍̑̒̍̕͝ͅͅb̶͉̯̞͖̟͓̯̌̋̅̇̾͋̌̎̄̓̏͌̕̕̚ẹ̶̢̢͔̫̮̻͓̍̾͗ ̵̧̰̺̟̱̭̺̯͖̜̱͖̱͙̄̉̾̾̏͌͋̔̓̌̑̏̚̕͜t̷̡̛̜̩̲̟̺̜̘͈̼̤̲͇̟͍͎͂̉̃͒̊̇͒̔̆̕̕̕͠ŗ̸̜͚̝̩̠͚́͑̀̓̀͐̄u̸̹̻̩͕̭̓̅͂̐̎̒͑̉͊̑̓̓̀͜è̵̢̛͕̪͈̙̲͕͚̝̯̱̩̣̼̤͔̹̲̭̞͗͑̓́̂́̿̎͐͊̀̒̂̔̓̈͘͘͜͝.̸̠̹̞̠͒͐̓̄̇̐͋͌̀̊̿̏̾͌̄̈̇̈́̾̕͝ ̶̨̢̡̞̙̪̙̗͔̤̻̊́͂̃̀̃͊̅̾̌̓̎͊̽̽̍ͅ