Текст: Titus Andronicus. Other. Albert Camus.

Running around this run-down, one-horse town.One of these days, they're gonna crucify me. How weary, stale, flat and unprofitable it is to be young, dumb, and have lots of money. We will sit upon this grassy knoll, holding hands and stroking handguns, with pristine souls, and even my own mother will tell you I am an asshole, but underneath it all, there is an apathetic heart of gold. So who will be saved, from the least to the greatest men? Because even Honest Abe sold posion milk to schoolchildren.

The blood drive came to Glen Rock High in a white bus with red letters on the side and a long shiny needle they brought to suck me dry like missionary misquitoes in the sky. Now you're doing time for stealing candy from a babe because all the kids in Ridgewood have got cell phones these days and if you wear a mask, they can still read your license plate and a wireless line is a terrible thing to waste. Because the more we think, the less it all makes sense, tonight we will drink to our general indifference.
Lamb of God, we think nothing of ourselves at all. So, Death, be not proud because we don't give a fuck about nothing and we only want what we are not allowed.