how many times do we get to taste the sweetness of death?
a dark winter couldn’t keep their spirits down, a chaser worked better
right back where we were yesterday, depressed and diffused into static
no memories of anything meaningful, or valuable targets left to attack
territories become a burden to manage, so management becomes the goal
without any higher purpose that’s all people will be allowed to do
panopticon fulfilled; a shell-game of watchmen with no eyes and no purpose
corporatocracy is their sacred cause, with everything else an enemy