Get out! Move up out of the hoood. The moon was a vehicle. The true sun was black. Pursued by implanted memories, we were pawns lost on a flood plain of spent symbols, the victims of atomic bioengineering, the playthings of omnipotent beasts. We were the horizontal shadows thrown by a vertical geometry. Our bodies were not other than symptoms. Our brains the materialized fallout left from the sabotage of the hall of records. -brian george.

Murderous.