but you are a brave little stoic aren't you?
This island is located in uncharted, unclaimed waters and it is where we live...
We are crows and we travel in murders. We sleep perched. We recline when we're dead. If you see a reclining crow, do not try to save it, it has expired and has already been forgotten by its murder.
Over still-warm refreshments we discuss the thing we have in common: confusion as to the relevance of sanity in a world that perpetually fries itself in the name of economics and routine. We refer to the means we use with the umbrella word progress.
Fear is an industry and on this island we buy and sell it for breakfast.
We do not know how to explain it exactly but we believe that it was strange of humanity to create the concept of justice in a world they knew would never be able to accomodate it. we created logic, why not defy it? such is the luxury of being the true creator/destroyers of the animal kingdom. have your child killed before it is born, you are a pariah. have your child killed when it's nineteen years old, you are a patriot.
"FUCK FUCK! turn around! what was that?" "some crazy bitch, someone explain to her that there is no safety in loud and erratic behavior". Well now, no safety. But no real danger either, hm? insofar as such a thing as "no real danger". eventually, mathematically, there WILL be an uprising on this island and YOU , crazy bitch, will be spared.
let's think: there is safety in numbers (we invented numbers), there is safety in 9 by 9 ft bullet/radiation proof enclosures that the inertia of popular concern will soon allow us to purchase over the internet. "just sit in here with a glass of wine and enjoy life" if only everything were so easy for us: the tracked and targeted civilians of this, the star on the mouth of pangea's teenage appendage. history's largest, youngest, most notorious glutton. if gluttony is a deadly sin then we're already on our ninth life and in no time we'll be in the relative purgatory of desolation: civilization half-death. covering the gates of heaven in grease and beaver shots, attempting to purchase shares of eternity just so we feel like we're amounting to something. bet you a million fucking dollars, class of 6/6/6.
the calendar hasn't been this satanic in a thousand years. and what do you have to say for yourself? well, i've got a diploma and a work permit...
"i'm gonna get myself in fighting trim
scope out every angle of unfair advantage
i'm gonna bribe the officials
i'm gonna kill all the judges
it's gonna take you people years to recover from all of the damage
our mother has been absent ever since we founded rome
but there's gonna be a party when the wolf comes home"
-mountain goats
We are crows and we travel in murders. We sleep perched. We recline when we're dead. If you see a reclining crow, do not try to save it, it has expired and has already been forgotten by its murder.
Over still-warm refreshments we discuss the thing we have in common: confusion as to the relevance of sanity in a world that perpetually fries itself in the name of economics and routine. We refer to the means we use with the umbrella word progress.
Fear is an industry and on this island we buy and sell it for breakfast.
We do not know how to explain it exactly but we believe that it was strange of humanity to create the concept of justice in a world they knew would never be able to accomodate it. we created logic, why not defy it? such is the luxury of being the true creator/destroyers of the animal kingdom. have your child killed before it is born, you are a pariah. have your child killed when it's nineteen years old, you are a patriot.
"FUCK FUCK! turn around! what was that?" "some crazy bitch, someone explain to her that there is no safety in loud and erratic behavior". Well now, no safety. But no real danger either, hm? insofar as such a thing as "no real danger". eventually, mathematically, there WILL be an uprising on this island and YOU , crazy bitch, will be spared.
let's think: there is safety in numbers (we invented numbers), there is safety in 9 by 9 ft bullet/radiation proof enclosures that the inertia of popular concern will soon allow us to purchase over the internet. "just sit in here with a glass of wine and enjoy life" if only everything were so easy for us: the tracked and targeted civilians of this, the star on the mouth of pangea's teenage appendage. history's largest, youngest, most notorious glutton. if gluttony is a deadly sin then we're already on our ninth life and in no time we'll be in the relative purgatory of desolation: civilization half-death. covering the gates of heaven in grease and beaver shots, attempting to purchase shares of eternity just so we feel like we're amounting to something. bet you a million fucking dollars, class of 6/6/6.
the calendar hasn't been this satanic in a thousand years. and what do you have to say for yourself? well, i've got a diploma and a work permit...
"i'm gonna get myself in fighting trim
scope out every angle of unfair advantage
i'm gonna bribe the officials
i'm gonna kill all the judges
it's gonna take you people years to recover from all of the damage
our mother has been absent ever since we founded rome
but there's gonna be a party when the wolf comes home"
-mountain goats