❝ jump from the hook // you're not obliged to swallow anything you despise // see, those
unrepenting buzzards want your life // and they got no right // as sure as you
have eyes // they got no right... ❞

( Four hundred and twelve years in the Americas, from Cortez to Anderson, and it’s still about heartbreak and disease, only now it’s heartbreak and language disease, and I wonder if they aren’t the same thing. Funny how you can’t always make yourself happy but you can always make yourself sad. Okay, its not funny but it’s true. It’s how you word it. It’s contagious. It’s sadness. It’s a language disease.
A man is running past a horse, through a pasture. The pasture has a wooden fence around it. Behind the man is an evil yellow and black robot that is destroying the world. The man has reached the wooden fence at the end of the pasture. Does he know the word for ladder? Does he know the word for climb? )