"Time’s eddies reach out for us with technicolor tendrils.
And the dreams even taste familiar, they feel like old friends, lovers.
But they are temporary madness.
Times favorite lies.
And one day you find the seams in corners of the dreams,
the loose threads taunting you,
and the sensual embrace of world love slips away."
WE ARE F•••••G RETARDS. WE ARE STUPID F•••••G CATTLE LED FROM ONE STINKING PILE OF SELF OBSESSED B••••••T TO ANOTHER. WE GET SUCKED DOWN S••T HOLES INTO THE WORLD’S SEWER SYSTEMS WHOSE SHEER SIZE IMPRESSES US TO THE POINT OF IGNORING THE THICK SMELL OF WASTE.
