Those who claim they have the truth would argue till their face turn green against any detractors and would make haste to brand any opposing views as apostasy. They cannot do likewise, for theirs belong to the masses of structured learning where one point lead to another and not otherwise. They have no voice but the voice of the herd. They have no thoughts but the will of the majority. They have no learning but the regurgitation of the generation once swindled. Theirs is the outcast of the wilds that has propogated upon silent cities like crabgrass and scabies
Sometime in the middle of all that is useless, a cry in the dark reminds one that all is not lost. The raspiest tenor this side of the island has a voice that thunders still. Lest we forget, they had ruled with passion and had dominated without pretense. Their only claim to truth are the hands punching the air, the release of the masses from their engineered living. This is why we revolt. This is why we care. This is why we will not forget. This is life, and we will live it to the fullest.
Lest we forget.
No lies here. Just rockers doing what they do best.
