The superego is a hill job.

Gardenias, gigantism, Lotto. Tokyo air is doing better. We were dangerous, once. Your voice is transparent, too late to make it sparse. Even your restraint is wishy-washy, a lake in air staying alert, too qualified and thrifty to feel anything.
Mayday! We’re recalibrating the interface between reeking havoc / making real money.

There is no wrong answer.