Post-apocalyptic summer of love. The smoke rises above. Fire bleeds through the soul. EFFIGY! EFFIGY! EFFIGY! No, he is a real person with a heart with a hole.
An angry man in a paisley dress. He screams out loud with such finesse. Androgynous.
The fields are green, the fields are red. Grasses grow and fires flow.
SMASH THOSE CHAIRS! SMASH THOSE CHAIRS!
Drums. Do they go give off beats when they are beat?
"I wanna destroy something, I wanna destroy something, I wanna destroy myself."
The anthem of the age so postmodern. Destruction. All that is sovereign.
Gasoline is a drink that kills. Chairs and fire extinguishers are the enemies of man. Dionysian are the thrills. This is how nihilism once began.
Fire is the light of the night. Fire is the way to open sight.
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