Television...

Once upon a time there was a long long rhyme in a castle so far far away. Upon a drifting wood, a climber, there, stood and on his gallant steed he lay aghast. He'd climbed all day he climbed by night and fought the red devil upon his back side, for even right now he lay bleeding sound and through his tortured eyes he saw the lights of Camelot and the lights of sod. Poor man, lay in the sand and watched the devil cry. He was on his way to Georgia and was far from northern lies. The gorge was deep the creek Ran sweet, sweet with the sugary taste of blood. The soldier stood and off the hoarse fell into the river deep. God's blessed castle, the castle of Camelot lay still, far, in the distance. There the raven once was blessed, was now sinking in eternal dress, the metal of silver his woven coil over his life saving suit. He'd still be alive if the fool had not tried to protect himself from craven fight, that light! It came from the edges of the world as it grows even smaller. The sandy man dressed in loins leaves as a world is shut down and the shrill cry is muffled so as not to even have time to clutter the evergreen trees. So with the violent killing spree, that lifts the heart and blacks out even evergreen trees, with the violent coup de etat that makes the other world cease to be, now the end has come and off goes the TV.