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Description
The end is imminent as we dive headfirst into the oblivion that awaits us as a light at the farthest edge of the tunnel. The buildings are burning with a fire hotter than the furnace in Satan’s own den, the people run rampant and rabid through the streets at a pace unachievable by most men without the use of high-quality meth or rabies, and the dense air is polluted with a cacophony of brazen noises—ranging from the patter of gunfire to the mind-shattering explosions of TNT and pipe bombs that were the cause of it all.

We’re the cause of it all.

An Army of one was unachievable. Little Billy Smith went of to ‘Nam and greeted his neighbors on his return home with a smile and his cerebral cortex as a hat. The bastards just left that tale out of the book of over-censored military fables.

But two can do, did do, and will do.

Trample through the migrating mob of stunned spectators, unnoticed by the preoccupied citizens as they scamper off like mice and hide in their homes worrying about the most mundane and pathetic of things.

Yeah, what will happen to your 32-inch Sony Plasma television and your surround sound stereo system you motherfucker?

We are invisible in a swarm of anxiety-stricken locusts, buzzing around looking for a safe crop to prey on. With our powers of social cloaking, we pick-pocket them, steal what material possessions they “cherish” and “love” right out of their outstretched hands, and burn them to the ground in a huge bonfire while singing Kumbya and toasting gooey marshmallows on the bayonets of rifles. But don’t take all the women and children because that’s just out-of-line. Just destroy everyone who tries to disagree. And everyone on this list.

Fire envelopes the city as it runs in separate directions from the huge mass in the middle of the street. Flames twirl in the night sky like dancers on a stage with no primary set. The night sky is ever-changing, as reds and yellows lick the black beyond, soaring with all their beauty to the stars in worlds far beyond ours. Yet everything has become a haven for hatred; a place for power to let itself loose and take a plunge into the never-ending depths of immortality.

Because on this day, we become immortal.

Just one last explosion. Just one last rich, sulfur-filled scream and I am no longer one with this Earth.

Beam me up Scotty. I’m ready for the ride.

So interlock your hands in mine because the truth of the matter is I miss you.

Description
The end is imminent as we dive headfirst into the oblivion that awaits us as a light at the farthest edge of the tunnel. The buildings are burning with a fire hotter than the furnace in Satan’s own den, the people run rampant and rabid through the streets at a pace unachievable by most men without the use of high-quality meth or rabies, and the dense air is polluted with a cacophony of brazen noises—ranging from the patter of gunfire to the mind-shattering explosions of TNT and pipe bombs that were the cause of it all.

We’re the cause of it all.

An Army of one was unachievable. Little Billy Smith went of to ‘Nam and greeted his neighbors on his return home with a smile and his cerebral cortex as a hat. The bastards just left that tale out of the book of over-censored military fables.

But two can do, did do, and will do.

Trample through the migrating mob of stunned spectators, unnoticed by the preoccupied citizens as they scamper off like mice and hide in their homes worrying about the most mundane and pathetic of things.

Yeah, what will happen to your 32-inch Sony Plasma television and your surround sound stereo system you motherfucker?

We are invisible in a swarm of anxiety-stricken locusts, buzzing around looking for a safe crop to prey on. With our powers of social cloaking, we pick-pocket them, steal what material possessions they “cherish” and “love” right out of their outstretched hands, and burn them to the ground in a huge bonfire while singing Kumbya and toasting gooey marshmallows on the bayonets of rifles. But don’t take all the women and children because that’s just out-of-line. Just destroy everyone who tries to disagree. And everyone on this list.

Fire envelopes the city as it runs in separate directions from the huge mass in the middle of the street. Flames twirl in the night sky like dancers on a stage with no primary set. The night sky is ever-changing, as reds and yellows lick the black beyond, soaring with all their beauty to the stars in worlds far beyond ours. Yet everything has become a haven for hatred; a place for power to let itself loose and take a plunge into the never-ending depths of immortality.

Because on this day, we become immortal.

Just one last explosion. Just one last rich, sulfur-filled scream and I am no longer one with this Earth.

Beam me up Scotty. I’m ready for the ride.

So interlock your hands in mine because the truth of the matter is I miss you.