Not to be swooped up in my loving Messiah’s hands, but to have access to all the sweet clothes and banging ass kicks left behind.
Hell, I’m scooping up me some yezzys and a polo track suit. (Maybe change this line)
Start me a fucking Etsy and eBay that shit.
I think it’s going to be shitty living here. So they say, or so I’ve heard.
What, like 7 years of tribulation?
That tribulation is going to fly by.
People will be saying, “Where did this tribulation go? It seems like just yesterday it was raining frogs. And the fires. Pfft, just a blur.”
There probably won’t be internet, so I’ll have to sell my pilfered goods the old fashioned way; by word of mouth, print advertising, and delivering a great product, only harvesting quality.
I probably won’t be the only one trying to get the hottest shit, so I’m sure I’m going to have to kill a lot of people.
I have to mentally prepare for that.
Even more pressure on top of starting a new business venture.
Gloomy Forebodings 