dreams never end

tell me, tell me about the toxic blood ... an adventure history will never recognize. tell me about the screams behind shadows, the night when they attacked ... we know we should be united for that unique death of time called revolution. what else to do when fear is just another name for day? what else to fear when the day rhymes coldness, rust and agony? there must be some escape from these cold, angry, dead days. there must be some kind of unity beyond stereo sounds, some constantly vanisihing idea. some kind of tower in bolingen. there must be a place where angels descend to humans. we will find our revolution there. but will it be a fortress or a prison?

::: there’s no escape so few in fear give in a changing value :::