Vod:
No longer alive inside something missing, i dont know why..

Mr.zeal:
I'm no longer in fear of the beautiful scandalous night.

Vod:
I find a bright light that gives me new insight and winds me, im away from the evil that blinds me.

only when i know i'm being overly cruel; for some reason some of us have a conscience and are willing to execute it; a bit like stomping on a mouse... give me a cow to butcher, i'd do it... i remember this once instance, when people when phobia-prone to killing animals on a farm... oddly enough not all of us came from the "privileges" of an urban environment; a part of my family (cousins, aunts, etc.) remained in their original setting of the rural world. i visited it once, and saw with naked eyes how a chicken gets butchered... chop to the neck... and the thing is... the other chickens rushed to the stump of wood on which the "execuition" took place, and started pecking / drinking the blood of their "comrade", while also pecking the head that had all the matrix-movie-slow-motion expressions... that wasn't the horrible part though... the horrible part was plucking all the feathers from the body and... the stink was impossible to stomach... i can't believe i actually ate the: poached-chicken soup... but then adding a few vegetables to the soup helped my sense of smell.

and why are all soups in england without
any clarity? they're all goo...
    creamy... baby food pap...
                      i mean, i was a fan of heinz's
tinned tomato "soup" once,
        it had a certain sweetness about it...
    but it's so mundane sometimes to not be able
to peer into a bowl of soup like you might
look into a glass of water, and see the bottom of the bowl...
that poached-chicken soup?
        the jews will say they invented it, i've heard
it before... it's called *rosół (rho-soow) -
but you won't say the H in ρ... and you're bound to
imagine the W as a branch with many other branches
that get plucked and then the branch turns into
a bow, i.e. that it becomes bent... kinda like a ł...
         or for lack of a better phrase: hard to find
a V or an X or a Q in slavic languages.
where was i? oh right... drinking ***** in england:
is a complete nightmare...
               you can't do to ***** what the english do to it,
they're incompetent with *****...
      for ****'s sake, i've seen them drinking it in
an orange juice mixer... a ****** mary i can
understand, with a rhubarb stick or a celery stick
plopped into the glass... orange juice?! seriously?
and they don't give it enough tenderness,
or... let's just say knowledge.
                         whiskey? sure, you can drink it
with ice, soda, ms. pepsi, or as the puritans do in
scotland... warmed by the heat of your hand holding
a glass: pure, slightly warm, to infuse
    the idea of burning amber, warmth, coziness,
brandy?
              ***** though? the english are incompetent
with *****... you go to any nightclub here
and the ***** isn't stored in fridges along with the rose
wine... it's hanging up there on the bar wall
along with all the other spirits...
                         dead man's ruse in jerusalem...
mr. vod molotov, please come down and... ****...
don't even stand in a fridge... head to the refrigerator...
and that's the beauty of a good shot of *****...
you need to get it to resemble a syrup...
    and since ethanol has a lower freezing point
to water... keeping a ***** in sub-zero temperatures
makes it pleasurable to drink, on its own...
     and you can actually manage it...
                            i once had a warm shot of *****
and i could swear i experienced alcohol poisoning...
it's like filtering water... you filter water because
you don't want to drink tap water that can also
be found in your toilet...
                                  freezing ***** gets rid of
all the impurities that might be in it...
                   which is why you prefer to eat a cooked
piece of beef rather than a steak tartar for fear
of a chance of a tapeworm embryo...
                                  in conclusion the english don't
know how to drink *****...
                          oh god, this one time, at band camp -
no no, just ******* with you...
               2004... new years eve, Posen (Poznań) -
vanilla absolute ***** (swedish brand,
also comes in cherry? definitely lemon,
blackcurrant?) - anyway... what a memorable night...
only because it was served coming out
of the refrigerator... not a fridge, not room temperature:
belowing the freezing temperature...
                              because that's what you do with *****.