Rage

Don't want a second Chernobyl. Running information. We're too much people, you can't quench the thirst one by one. My mouth has piquancy.

I don't trust in my hunches, so this won't be the end, not yet. The work of the people is everywhere.

This feeling of life... My hands do what I want, they just do it, I love them two. The music is right inside, in the fingers and palms, in the bones and muscles. But I can't take it out. My hips are deaf unless there's a voice singing up. Another good-for-nothing on the world.

I want to learn how to hush. I reject hypocrisy. I reject this social precept. How am I supposed to survive then? Sincerity makes me human. But I hate to be this selfish. Is it my nature? If it's, I won't refuse. But I believe it's society's fault. Hell. That's where I want to go. Far away from here.

Fire out spits my mouth. That's our melody.

Cholera. Ire. Wrath.

I suffocate.