Infected and rejected. The pressure gets to you. Disjointed and erected. Protection from the mutes. . Wasted and exhausted. A new attitude. Restrained to the table.
Machines of madness. Destined to destroy. Inter-connections. Body fluids deploy. . Sleep depravation. Consciousness grows cold. Organic stimulation. Empowered codes.
~~~~~~~~. "Where am I? Am I dreaming or is this death? I'm dead, I think.". A grey, toxic rain. Starts to appear. No real life. Just human wasteland. All around....
Faces of a thousand people. The sickness in their mind is real. We fight and struggle to survive. This cultured way of suicide. . This faith is real. The betrayal.
I don't think that any means necessary for survival. Stick 'em up motherfucker I don't think that. I don't think that the real violence has even started yet.
(There's a time when the operation of the machine becomes so odious,. makes you so sick at heart, that you can't take part!. You can't even passively take part!.