(MIND) Vomit II
No one would even try to understand it. The feeling of connecting with the old venues, ways of communication, verbal exchange, digital sat-tyre. Most of 'em laughed about it, behind bars, behind the dust. Even when we tried to come back in modern ways, it always seemed to facilitate only the ego of few. Only the reflection of the above. None for the common.
As if we hadn't enough shit from all of you, decades of living in the margins of their tolerance. Unions of the unions, portrayers of the well drenched clothes, the unanimous pungent odor. A carrier of the night, the non-stop partying, the restlessness making you foul. Children of the night, dancers in disguise.
Oh the clubbing life. In here for it, you deny it all you want, you ought to become a next wave of rave goers, a sinister path for those who enhance their senses. A minimus amount and a strong will. It might take a while for you to go into a frenzy mode.
