Man is a dumpster.
Man is a wretch.
Man is awfulness.
Man is disgust.
You know bad luck lurks everywhere.
You know suffering is everywhere.
You know hatred is everywhere.
You know wickedness is everywhere.
And poetic own bare handed justice is the only solution for these curses.
For these curses that hang like swords upon us.
And upon YOUR heads as well.
We are messengers.
We are contemporaries of everything.
We are so compassionate yet so glacial.
We are the very proof of the damnation of Man.
We are the very proof of the damnation of Humanity.
We are a heartached, nervous, restless, sleepless scourge.
Just like you.
Just like you.
And only music is our only consolement.
And only music is our only therapy.
And only music is our only salvation.
And only music is our only relief.
And only music is the cure we developed for the cancer that is killing Humanity.
We read with our fingers instead of our eyes.
We play with snakes.
We explode in silence.
We are deeply immersed in the still of the night.
We are a legion in a cold desert, under a cold sky.
We are thrown to the ground, sleeping, in the very place where we found ourselves standing.
We are a thousand million discordant voices in total annulation.
We are soldiers in the battlefield, who have lost their sword, their horse, their captain, we have seen our best friend and our brother die in front of us.
We are soldiers with mortal wounds about to fall dying in the dust of a battle that time will not remember ever again.
We are virgins mortally hit in the head by falling meteorites.
We are Desposyni.
Kneel before us and be released.