On the fourth day of Britmas, my true love gave to me…
THE RETURN OF EPICNEY.
LIKE AN ANGELIC GODDESS SENT FROM ABOVE TO DELIVER US FROM A CEASELESS TORRENT OF MEDIOCRE POP FUCKERY, THE HOLY SPEARIT HATH DESCENDED. FALSE IDOLS AND GOLDEN CALVES, BOW DOWN: THE FINAL HOUR OF RECKONING BEGINS NOW.
I CAN’T. I CAN’T. I CAN’T. I CAN’T. I CAN’T.
Coffin.