someone has switched it out of all thisnnso we put into a bottlenna small parchment tied with bandnnnntil we noticed, quite conclusively,nna raw and breathing patternnnbeing scribbled out by hands in the middle of the sandnnnnso i dig, and i dug,nnuntil i couldn't dug no morenni have reached God's island shore, thank God it's homennand then pound this little moundnnwithout needin' no kettle drumnnif I'm your prisoner of intolerant, that is alright.nnnni'm going to get younni'm going to get you, annennonly alonennyou don't know what it's likennor maybe you donnmaybe you donnnnn