Congratulations to the Lawrence Hughes character for becoming the chief executive of BNY Mellon Wealth Management! I take my hat off to this unreality. He has been with the company for nineteen years. We have to believe that. He has sacrificed himself, and he has been rewarded. Yes. Yes. Yes. Lawrence has recently retrained as a financial shaman. Now we are getting down to brass tacks.
I remember speaking to his boss, Robert Kelly, not too long ago. Bobby is the chairman and chief executive of the whole splendid nonsense, the bank, I mean. Those Bank of America shits were trying to tear him away from his spiritual home, the bank, that is. I remember Bobby saying to me: 'We're starting small, man. Slowly building our mystical operation. But when the New Depression is over - BAM! We'll be there, burning it up like you won't believe.' Those were his exact words. He was talking about his small team of shamans. He was embarrassed. Yes, he was. I could tell he wanted more. Well, he got more, he got more, more. Mr Hughes is a financial shaman!
A shaman, a shaman, a shaman. Burning, I get so excited when someone unexpected climbs aboard the great ship of mystical capitalism. This is the wild life for dying creatures. This is the fire for souls that are hungry. In the desert, you can lose, without fear. My body is a bag of old bones. I'll leave it behind, step outside myself, and float away in peyote smiles like an angel having an orgasm. Drums in my ears. Drums with my heart. You are with me, mystical reader, hysterical searcher. Drumming brain drums through we go sand and the rock of caves. Deeper this vision we will lose the meaning of this post before we know who we are and what we want from the cosmos. Vibrations and sounds, ears ringing noise and a fire taking our thoughts higher until they are no longer thoughts only fragments of consciousness that fly past the sun.
I remember speaking to his boss, Robert Kelly, not too long ago. Bobby is the chairman and chief executive of the whole splendid nonsense, the bank, I mean. Those Bank of America shits were trying to tear him away from his spiritual home, the bank, that is. I remember Bobby saying to me: 'We're starting small, man. Slowly building our mystical operation. But when the New Depression is over - BAM! We'll be there, burning it up like you won't believe.' Those were his exact words. He was talking about his small team of shamans. He was embarrassed. Yes, he was. I could tell he wanted more. Well, he got more, he got more, more. Mr Hughes is a financial shaman!
A shaman, a shaman, a shaman. Burning, I get so excited when someone unexpected climbs aboard the great ship of mystical capitalism. This is the wild life for dying creatures. This is the fire for souls that are hungry. In the desert, you can lose, without fear. My body is a bag of old bones. I'll leave it behind, step outside myself, and float away in peyote smiles like an angel having an orgasm. Drums in my ears. Drums with my heart. You are with me, mystical reader, hysterical searcher. Drumming brain drums through we go sand and the rock of caves. Deeper this vision we will lose the meaning of this post before we know who we are and what we want from the cosmos. Vibrations and sounds, ears ringing noise and a fire taking our thoughts higher until they are no longer thoughts only fragments of consciousness that fly past the sun.
