Mankind in all it's wisdom has spent thousands of years to figure out what the fuck we're all about. But that does not weigh much on this planet, no, we pour it all down the drain, the only species in the universe with conscience does everything it can to drown every last piece of it in liqour and violence. Somewhat strange this behavior would seem if you did not understand that we're born to be seen, to be heard, to be loved. And then we're buried, like the wayward dog, and then we're done, we lose the light of our days. Now we're done, no more surface of skin. We used to focus on educating ourselves, raising above all the other species. We justified our grief, but we grew to be the worst, worse than any harvest-devouring vermin could ever be. We rape, we murder, we scorche to get our kicks. We need pictures of war to keep our minds thinking: things could be worse. How the fuck could they be any worse than they are now? We're spending our lives working our fingers to the bone waiting someone who'll claim the price. Waiting.. Waiting... For what?

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