Promotion: Possibility
A tall janitor mills about in a windowless room
Keys dangling in his slack pockets, mop in hand
No current occupant is strapped into a restraint chair
There appears a portal in the white walled square
He returns its crystal, grave stare; fashions his plan
This cleaner of toilets, leader of the trash bag posse
will discover how risky discovery can be so costly
He enters Death's Lobby, hears no seraphim chant
witnessing the wrath of the mescaline dance
Learns lessons, he does, and remembers this one well
I doubt he'll be paid overtime as a janitor in hell...
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