So this is what it's come to. We've spent all and now are compelled to face the true reality of the situation we've chiseled out for ourselves. All these years trying to get more, get more, and get more independent have really all been spent mortaring ourselves tightly inside the chamber of the Hate Goat.
The Hate Goat sows confusion and harvests the gutted husks of dreams from within the foul Abbatoir of Hope. He rejoices that we've invested so much of our blood and effort, only to finally join him in his vile abode.
YOU LIED TO ME YOU SAID YOU'D NEVER TURN FROM ME YOU LIED TO ME YOU LIED TO ME (9,228)
What a terrible and brutish era it is that we live in. With the last credible mote of hope having been shuffled off to the abattoir, all we can offer you is this fleeting reminder that not everything has always sucked :
In old Army parlance, a "forlorn hope" was a band of soldiers sent off on a mission that was deemed necessary but presumed suicidal. We're th' forlorn hope. We're being sent out into a burning hail of deathspittle in an attempt to wrench humanity's future from the weasel class. The kicker is, of course, that we know there is no future. The weasel class and we are going to shriek and wail together, in broken sorrowful awe of the horror we've hewn out for ourselves.
On th' positive side, th' new Massive Attack record is really excellent -- expect a review of that puppy tomorrow! (12,914)
There's a thundering hailstorm in Phoenix today, sending drops of frozen hate clattering across the skylight and beating the life out of weak trees. On the outskirts of my peripheral vision, I caught a glimpse of something white and jagged -- the future.
Life as a human right now is akin to having woken up inside the chute of a woodchipper. We may not even recall how we got inside the woodchipper in the first place. The one thing that is clear : the inevitability of the blades.
A feeling like saws chewing into my neck. The sounds of weeping just outside my door. And a cold light knife into my pupil reminds me : This is a world divorced from hope.
When facing a suffocated reality of nonexistent future, what do you do? Here are some options :
1) Lie down and wait quietly for the ice weasels to come. 2) Cry until you're too tired to cry any longer, then die. 3) Fight until death. 4) Put on heavy metal records and rock out for as long as possible.
Now, I don't know which of these sounds most attractive, or which you, the reader, may already be doing. I choose option #4. Here's why :
* Metal music is brain floss. * Metal music improves blood flow to the face. * Metal music is not a norm. * Metal music has no sympathy for your suffering. * Metal music remembers when you were only an animal. * Metal music hasn't heard about your regrets, but it can drench them in molten @#$%^& * Metal music will survive long after the Universe is toast. * Metal music recognizes your true form and can restore it if lost. * Metal music connects you with that aspect of youself that you forgot about. * Metal music is truth erupting from a sea of lies.
There's no future. But with metal music, the present can be made to rock. In these bleak and doomed days, everybody looks for help. Some go to shrinks, some watch TV, and some try in futility to numb the pain with drugs. Well, you all are welcome to your 'cheese' heroin, 'lean,' and amphetamines. I'm an Earache man myself. (19,141)
They say we're done for Because of what's coming on the wind They're handing out death for free To anyone who asks for it
They say that their way Is rational and best And that we'd better hurry And eagerly fall to rest
But no matter if they're right or wrong, That's a deal I won't accept
Maybe the Lord will save us But probably not There's too much poison in the air
But even a last moment in anguish Is a moment that belongs to me And I won't let them put me down
We may hear our children Cry out in pain Yours may be the last remaining Human name
But that doesn't mean That I'll let them take the reins I'll stay here and and present with you While we wait for the final rain
Even all these aching thoughts They're thoughts that belong to me And I won't let them put me down
We always, always, always fought And I'll fight to the end I won't surrender my last hours On the advice of these wretches
Even at the end of hope for this life I still hold on to hope for pride And I won't let them put me down
I'm not saying that I'm OK with this being the total end I was one of those who dreamed of art's survival long after the Sun's death Now there's slight time left, and you're my ultimate friend
But that's the way of things - There are stones you can't roll back An even now I feel that weight So heavy on my neck
I won't trade time for comfort I won't give up this last thing I'm keeping every feeling that's Been allotted to me
When I feel the terrible change, That sensation belongs to me And I won't let them put me down (33,097)
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