clay pigeons

“I could build me a castle of memories
just to have somewhere to go”

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“sing a song with a friend
change the shape that I’m in
and get back in the game
start playin’ again”

“smokin’ cigarettes in the last seat
try to hide my sorrow from the people I meet
and get along with it all”

“feed the pigeons some clay
turn the night into day
and start talkin’ again
when I know what to say”

Blaze Foley.
This fuckin’ guy.

sam stone

Here’s a leap for you: modern ideologies are just window dressing; we’re all ruled by the same supra-national murderous fucks. As end-game global capitalism approaches, the merchant-kings atop the great monopolies will openly ascend to their thrones, the morality of profit will at last supplant and destroy what’s left of our aggregate decency, and we as a species will become nothing but an empty host for the carnivorous mask of market “freedom” we once put on to use — one that fit so well we couldn’t pry it off, even as it ate down to the bone.  This soulless incorporated nightmare with its fixed leather face will then burn through the galaxy or annihilate itself, either, with equal indifference.

Still with me?  I mean, it doesn’t have to be like that.  There’s still time, something drastic could be done.  If I were a betting man, though, I’d say…

“Jesus Christ died for nothing, I suppose…”

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