Execute

It appears that we have reached the Edge, that zenith where stimuli and comatose collide.
Forty years ago, THE MAN proclaimed the Age of the Gross to be upon us, and even though THE
MAN was destroying our heritage and insulting our intelligence,
that era has become very real.
We labor for pleasure and abhor the guilt of pressure.
My generation will go down as the architects of contemporary disgust.
Some have fought and died.
Others have allowed the strong to be butchered for a price they themselves don't care about
and will never understand.
I myself am beleaguered by the selfish face of a kind of man that is NOT MANKIND.
Distrust in information.
Fundamentalism of opinion.
Catastrophic boredom, and a fanatical devotion to that which DOES NOT MATTER.
Where is your glory now, people?
Where are your gods and politicians?
Where is your shame and salvation?
You Rage For No Reason Because You Have No Reason.

WHAT HAVE YOU EVER FOUGHT FOR?
WHAT HAVE YOU EVER BLED FOR?
THE FACE OF THE EARTH IS SCARRED WITH THE WALKING DEAD.
THE AGE OF THE GROSS IS A LIVING VIRUS.
THIS IS THE FUTURE YOU HAVE CREATED.
THIS IS THE WORLD YOU HAVE SET ABLAZE.
ALL YOUR LIES ARE COMING TRUE.
ALL FREEDOM IS LOST.
ALL HOPE IS GONE.

Похожие новости.

Ховаю небо в сірий туман І мертве сонце світе не нам Іржаві сльози не змиють бруд Із наших рук І вже не стерти бруд на очах Не приховати відчай і страх Не оживити попіл сміття Цього життя... А

Их восемь - нас двое. Расклад перед боем Не наш, но мы будем играть! Сережа! Держись, нам не светит с тобою, Но козыри надо равнять. Я этот небесный квадрат не покину. Мне цифры сейчас

You gonna phone me up again When youve sat too long alone At a table there at lous Drift about the afternoon And of course I sit with you For a while most every day Wave

Here we are Midair off of the cliff Staring down at the end again But then again maybe we’re finally On the road that’s heading away from all your complaining Of hearing the same song

Ты в городе ночном Ночное ждешь такси Мое окно Горит прощальным светом За то, что не случилось, ты прости, А впрочем лучше промолчать об этом Припев: Но кто ж на свете Кто же не грешил Я ухожу на дно