God Hates Us All.

To quote an old friend of mine, this is one hell of a fucked up world. Still, while hating most, we go through it as if there was no tomorrow. Well, maybe it is because there is no tomorrow. We drink, we fight, we vomit on top of the world, and we are the absolute best we can. It is no wonder why people like jumping of bridges or taking a small dose of poison or lead into their heads. I’m pretty sure that while falling we do realize this world has never been good or enough, so there is no room for regret in leaving it. Just perhaps the sweet taste of lips long lost or the touch of tender skin that is now forever gone. But still we all through the streets where fifteen year old hookers sell their body to the night, and in the absolute obliteration of purity we celebrate the dawning of a new age. All the good things, all those few dew drops that may enlighten our lives are being devoured by the hungry jaws of this rotten city, this bloody city of dread.

Blood is spilled without mercy or consideration on the streets that bare feet walk in their path to redemption. Words choke one on top of another, as in some dark orgy, raping and erasing all what we once held dear. Horror is soon replaced with comfort and acceptance as heaven lies raped and maimed on the silent street. Porcelain dolls that a just a dollar can buy, lay wasted on the curb, as ancient hands beg for a dime while the younger ones murder for nothing. The thrill has long since been lost; still the sweet scent of love gone wrong fills the air. We fuck for nothing, for we are worth nothing. You know you can’t get something for nothing, but nothing sure buys a lot these days.

So we chose to dream our lives away in the pure moment of clarity, and we lose all sanity in the name of God. A god that loves us all, that hates us all, that fucks us all, and that in the sweet screams of agony laughs to death. Prayers are wasted, prayers are cold, prayers are worthless in this city, a city that killed Jesus in the crib and sold us an idol of plastic and emptiness. Empty heads, filled with programmable thoughts of what is good and what is not. Fake beauties that wrinkle and rot in front of every mirror. Perfect arrangements are made so that the hollow rule the world. So what kids die, so what if they are raped? In this world of make believe everything is possible, and every exit bites harder than the last one.

Indifference is the new flag under which we all march, fight, die, and come home. Murder sells, sex sells, death sells and we are all buying. Now if you excuse me, I’ve got to buy my dream dress and gift it to someone else. Isn’t this beautiful?

- Dark Shadow!