Take control of your kingdom. We are captivated, even fastinated, by the alarming tragedies. Yet we watch attentively. We wait with shaking hands, elbows and arms… Our fix is L i f e… A shade of étain blue… The Art of being alone is magnified by the consolidation and redefinition of the family unit… Were fucked. The empire is fucked we just don’t see that.through the constant barrage of advertisements that we fight with other advertisements. A never ending stalemate of gain and loss.
We all carried switchblades. Why? That answer is still unknown. It was a tool used to shotgun beers. Maybe that’s why we did it or maybe, truthfully, we thought we looked cool. I only brandished my switchblade, which I refered to as a hook, once in anger when some fucking college douche got mad after I refused to give him the last can of a Milwaulkees Best Ice 12-pack. I thought I looked cool clicking the knife and waving it in his face, I was already drunk. It was a basement show… The entire populace of the neighborhood was alive with one power or another.
Hungry. The masses are hungry and they are fed a constant diet of Heroes. Heroes dissected into bite-sized pieces. Pieces. “I can’t believe we made it this far…” Someone sez and I don’t try to figure out who said it. I let the statement sink in. Like a Hot knife thru expensive butter. The Art of Knowing When became verily important.
The Fairey Tales are over. The masses want blood. Preferably, your blood. Normal reality has lost its appeal. Their life is your life is theirs. The return of the Midwest Apogee will be scary. I allready know you will runaway from it due to you being a true of heart son of a bitch and fucker of a brother. Let’s call it a day and give the wires and the beeps the night off. This country needs more bombs, bullets and people like you to use them! To give them homes in skulls and hearts and souls. The mirror shows you the real-meal-deal bastard.