Now it is resounding again, the spit-out, wild brutal romanticism, which is what many brainwashed, nameless persona-CDs, pay-as-you-go kurafi call it, is distasteful. How the hell the distressing self-consciousness spews itself out into the world. "because everything is in vain!" – his basic feeling. The disgraced, poisoned saliva lips of prostitutes cite everyone to the meat processor of slaughterhouses.

No one wants to raise their defenseless head from the row of the yellow earth, where they have sinned with zeal, lying to the stars?!

In this upset, grotesque old world, where the insidious herd-herd spirit, arrogant, self-righteous, sole-licking idiots and party-faces sizzle with unanimity, the air hisses ferociously. – They are dishonored, destroyed, just like benevolent vagabonds; fake card holders rob each other if they really have to.

Even unarmed, the soul-flame burning on your tender body is more and more ominous and dangerous. Waving shadows strangle each other to their liking in the syrupy darkness. It is still permissible for ecstasy-intoxicated party-celebs who are dully recovering, if destruction builds a permanent nest among the ruins of their existence

The split schizophrenic ego disintegrates into its **** like layers of shells. – The extended waves of murderous silence blur the complexity of self-evident essences. The cosmic Janus face of murderer or victim is already going on. The long-term, general deprivation of the same goals is already the cherished dream-desire at all levels.

The tempers of the Cain brothers are now straining against each other. All of them are lone criminals still hunting themselves in their No Man's Land!