Think you’ve got your head wrapped around Shine, Perishing Republic? Put your knowledge to
the test. Good luck — the Stickman is counting on you!
Q. When this America settles in
the mould of its vulgarity
a perishing republic
the mountains
the monster's feet
Q. I sadly smiling remember that
the fruit rots to make earth
all things must pass
the flower fades to make fruit
you making haste haste on decay
Q. only a bubble in the molten mass
pops and sighs out
settles in mold
thickens to empire
returns home to the mother
Q. when the cities lie at the monster's feet
never has been compulsory
there are left the mountains
meteors are not needed less than mountains
head for the hills
Q. And boys, be in nothing so moderate as in
corruption
a clever servant
love of man
hasting on decay