|I Dream Of Murder.
||[Jul. 3rd, 2005|02:26 am]
D I R T Y S K Y D U B
We clone hate, we build it on an assembly line, we box it and bag it,
put it on a shelf, sell it in barrels wholesale to your kids. You
thought you knew how low we could go, but really you have no idea.
Things that shimmer and skip, glow like a full moon and live and
breathe and love, warm and alive, we crush them, slowly, collapse them
under our own ponderous weight.
Those things you thought were so fucking precious, look again, it was a
ruse. We built them, built them over a weekend, designed, engineered
and coded them to distract you. And now, here, so close to the very
end, do you finally realize the truth: