with every sip that I take, of the magic bottle filled with life
concentrate. Even though the superficial tries to dicredit my
thrist. But I'll corrupt the machine and force it to operate in
reverse. The cold unfeeling gears decrepit, bacause that's the
way I left it, give it data previously rejected, so the system
shuts down, imperfected. The weakness lies in the fact that I
am intangible. It relies on a life source that I can cut and tangle.
What we create we cannot enslave. Do not bow down to what you've
made. There is no struggle without a cause to struggle against.
Break the chains and burn down the fucking fence. Remove the blinds
from thine eyes. Now you must wake up and realize. The truth is
not the thing first given. Wake up and look at how you're living.
The bullshit piles up higher on a daily basis. You can see it
on the populace's faces. People struggling without reason for
invisible goals. Selling incriments of themselves while holding
tight to their souls. Deep in the backstreets of cities life claws
at the gut of us all. Waiting for one of us to make a mistake,
so it can take advantage of the fall.