The Truthful Theology
The siren's song that is our life has become a redundancy that seems rather inconsistent within itself. Hello, you are self-serving and self-righteous, don't believe me? Then you're dumber than I thought you looked. To complete this equation, please insert something resembling that miniscule intellect that you possess...
We are all flawed, that is the nature of our creation. We are a cosmic accident that should never have occured, an error that the system overlooked, a child who was never born and never had any parents to begin with...Welcome to planet Earth, the orphanage of universal blunders who have no where else to turn. You can hide behind that mask of "faith" that you so desparately cling to...but your mask doesn't hide your eyes. I can see their fear, I can see their doubts, I can see their logical thougts lead you to only one conclusion: THERE IS NO GOD.
Too bad you've already thrown every essence of yourself into this lie, otherwise I'd try and save you, but your blindness makes you believe you are happy, and I have no right to interfere with your idiocy. Philisophy is politics, politics is theology, and theology is philosophy...but all three are sub-fields of hypocrisy...there are no answers to this life, how do you feel about that?
Tick and toc, you're running out of time to make something out of this physical existence. Soon your material surroundings will fade into
velvet coated oak walls inside of a rectangular box, six feet under a slab of stone with your life story on it. Name, life-span, and those few words of intelligence you may have uttered but probably never really did. And your survivors will drop by now and then to remember until they die, then their survivors will remember them, and they too will pass on, leaving their survivors to do the same until you are a forgotten link who's name they think is just another coincidence.
The funny thing is the fact that after that you never really existed, pieces of paper don't prove you were there, pictures are nothing
more than imprints of some other fool's mind, and momentos are cheap pawn shop pieces of jewelry that somehow survived a few generations of use. Oh praise the history books, they are only written by the victors because those who lost can no longer lift their hands in challenge.
And then what, after all this knowledge what have you really learned? Not a damned thing that will ever matter because nothing you ever comprehend will live past you. Your thoughts will be mistaken, your logic will be lacking, and your final words will be found wanting. So there you go, nothing you've done, nothing you are doing, and nothing that you will ever do matters to anyone beyond this lifetime.
Just give up.........you are another failed experiment..........you are a nothing test tube prodigy...........you are just a clone of those who came before you.........why bother? Just blow your fucking head off and save the world one more correction it has to do before this system crashes...
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
Fuck off and let the world (including yourself) die...
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
Whatever...
We are all flawed, that is the nature of our creation. We are a cosmic accident that should never have occured, an error that the system overlooked, a child who was never born and never had any parents to begin with...Welcome to planet Earth, the orphanage of universal blunders who have no where else to turn. You can hide behind that mask of "faith" that you so desparately cling to...but your mask doesn't hide your eyes. I can see their fear, I can see their doubts, I can see their logical thougts lead you to only one conclusion: THERE IS NO GOD.
Too bad you've already thrown every essence of yourself into this lie, otherwise I'd try and save you, but your blindness makes you believe you are happy, and I have no right to interfere with your idiocy. Philisophy is politics, politics is theology, and theology is philosophy...but all three are sub-fields of hypocrisy...there are no answers to this life, how do you feel about that?
Tick and toc, you're running out of time to make something out of this physical existence. Soon your material surroundings will fade into
velvet coated oak walls inside of a rectangular box, six feet under a slab of stone with your life story on it. Name, life-span, and those few words of intelligence you may have uttered but probably never really did. And your survivors will drop by now and then to remember until they die, then their survivors will remember them, and they too will pass on, leaving their survivors to do the same until you are a forgotten link who's name they think is just another coincidence.
The funny thing is the fact that after that you never really existed, pieces of paper don't prove you were there, pictures are nothing
more than imprints of some other fool's mind, and momentos are cheap pawn shop pieces of jewelry that somehow survived a few generations of use. Oh praise the history books, they are only written by the victors because those who lost can no longer lift their hands in challenge.
And then what, after all this knowledge what have you really learned? Not a damned thing that will ever matter because nothing you ever comprehend will live past you. Your thoughts will be mistaken, your logic will be lacking, and your final words will be found wanting. So there you go, nothing you've done, nothing you are doing, and nothing that you will ever do matters to anyone beyond this lifetime.
Just give up.........you are another failed experiment..........you are a nothing test tube prodigy...........you are just a clone of those who came before you.........why bother? Just blow your fucking head off and save the world one more correction it has to do before this system crashes...
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
Fuck off and let the world (including yourself) die...
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
Whatever...