- We tried. And we failed.
- Complete incompetence in the
face of unbridled destruction. It weeps, it bleeds, and each
day a new gash is added. Why must I cower in the shadow of
defeat? Why must I retreat from the shores that bring me life?
Every waking moment spent plotting my return. Every thought
brings me back to you. Can't even bring myself to say your
name. It takes me to a time where I'll remain. And
rational thought asks, 'Why? Why resume a state of depression?
Why revel in corruption and impotence?' And as out hands reach
out to choke the voice of reason, our own thoughts echo:
"Egress." Contact for only a breath. One last
glimpse of a bloated face, bloodstained and fixed with a grin of
malice which would have held its own in the nethermost hell.
Yet our thoughts rebuke: "Egress."
- An elitist tyranny to be
replaced by an elitist bureaucracy. Dance and shake, dance and
shake, a pseudo political dance that boils down to a "Fuck you,
mom and dad!" Just find the weirdest thrift store collage
in a desperate bid for attention. Communal living means
endless meetings about nothing. These are the times when I
want to sink my teeth into the neck of the collective, to rip out
its throat and forever silence the monotonous whining and every
ineffectual voice. An iron fist directed by an indomitable
will, sending gale force winds toppling every filthy punk house.
And I won't be satisfied until every fire is set and I watch all of
you drown. Now get on your bikes and ride.
- Rise up with your daggers drawn,
naked blades to accompany naked hate. Civility must be
discarded as we invoke the spirit of '77. Our anger is a blade
unsheathed. Rebellion is a knife at every throat. The
scars of our bondage are usurped as we are bonded once again.
Re-packed and re-sold, the commodification of our dissent. No
future. Seething frustrations can only manifest themselves as
dissension scrawled on every wall, as thieving hands depleting
stock, as a smashed out storefront, as a burnt out mall, as violent
under the booted kicks of social normalization, ground beneath the heel
of imperialist consumerism, choking beneath the smokestacks of
progress--mutilated self interest becomes homicidal thought becomes
heedless action. Justice forgone. Business has become a means to
exterminate and annihilate. That is all. Conditioning. Serfdom.
Oblivion. We have constrained ourselves to a life of servitude where
even our slave-masters will never find contentment. Let us face it: our
lives are miserable, laborious, and short. We are born, we are given
just as much food as will keep the breath in our bodies, and those of
us who are capable of it are forced to work to the last atom of our
strength; and the very instant that our usefulness has come to an end
we are slaughtered with hideous cruelty.
- The words of power lay broken in
a thousand pieces. Youthful ideology has been abandoned to an
age of endless decadence. This is advancement. This is
entertainment. You relinquish control on the dotted line.
You criticize the stubbornness of an unbending will. You laugh
your way to the bank, trading control for convenience. I
remain in an eternal struggle. Clawing every inch of the way
to the conclusion of a utopian dream, one which can be blown away
for some by the slightest breeze, the faintest whisper. Fame,
career, stability: stagnation. This can only end when I
tread upon the tyrant's head--or wear it upon my sword. Do you
really fucking get it? No.