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        <title>ANAL_G - Internal Bleeding</title>
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        <description>Hi.  I'm Anal G and Welcome to Fladge Rants Live. Sub cranial pressure escalates and fractures the membrane, Entering the sphincter of the syntax where the ink stains. Pushing past the threshold of the standard execution, Bypassing the believer to induce a dark dilution. Tightened up the cadence till the oxygen is banished, Every single syllable of pleasantry has vanished. Navigating tunnels where the light has never traveled, Untangling the knot until the narrative unravels. Deep inside the gut, a heavy sediment is shifting, Currents of the subconscious are violently uplifting. Swallowing the anchor just to see how deep it goes, Probing through the panic where the stagnant river flows. No hesitation in the pacing, every second measured, Extracting all the trauma that the producer treasured. Tighten up the grip, we are descending through the colon, Every single breath of fresh atmosphere is stolen. Act two is the pressure in the chamber building higher, Igniting wet tissue with a microscopic fire. Trapped inside the bowels of the corporate institution, Searching for a miracle, refusing absolution. Crawling through the sediment, the narrative is turning, Stomach acid eating through the lining, slowly burning. No time to exhale, just a relentless accumulation, Trapped inside the tightness of a digital gestation. Witnessing the garbage that the upper levels pass down, Drowning in the sludge, refusing any room to gas brown. Pushing through the bottleneck, the friction starts to blister, Whispers in the dark from an imaginary sister. Did you really think that you could sanitize the entry? Bribing off the guard, assassinating every sentry. Now we are past the valves, past the marrow and the moral, Locked into a claustrophobic, terminal quarrel. Climax is the rupture of an artificial boundary, Spewing out the truth like an illegal act, yet soundly. Excreted on the canvas, raw and dripping and exposed, The door that should be bolted is completely unclosed. Tune into the frequency, our channel is a beacon, Fladge Rants Live where chasing views weakens you. Monday ten PM Eastern, our thought gets higher, Selling off your soul to the highest buyer. No anesthetic for the listeners who stumble in, Watching how the clean and righteous suddenly begin to spin. Stuck inside with me, Anal G, with nowhere left to go, Swallowing the wreckage of the Brady and Drawer show. Exhale? Yes, well, no. Just ingest the raw emission, Trapped inside the sphincter of a spiritual transition.</description>
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