what about you listening to that awful track. nasty, annoying, pestering, cockiness, asshole i can't be bothered, i'm not drunk. you're kidding. what is the scene doing to the little punk? fuckin' dumb-ass what are you talking 'bout? none of your cheek, son of a bitch. look, i told you before, it sucks. do not bother me. get outta here.

the sprout of culture is the black box Columbus crushes the butt of an egg, Darwin goes under the arch in the Galapagos Islands Vasco da Gama brings back spices from India, POW children become drug addicts i'm nobody, nobody knows [woah, that's a bold hypothesis] at the top of the altar, the children forget about themselves, dance drooling, and tear their bellies painlessly each other. i'm just looking at it from the bottom of the inverted pyramid.

you are not a mirror, but something drawn on the wall. i'm talking to the wall. or you drew something on the wall and left the place, i'm talking to you who aren't there anymore. even if you weren't there at that time, you are sure to be somewhere else. so as long as you are alive and around the wall, although there is a time difference, i haven't missed the enemy. 'cause you are looking at me from everywhere. you are before i come in front of the wall, i might have drawn something about me on the wall. you are trying to point to me. but nothing hits me. 'cause when you were there, i wasn't there.

uncertain thing, how to keep it lit: stop imitating to a precedent for a right-wing organization, right now, start from nothing and continue until what you're doing become your bloody roots. the invented uncertain gesture is your existence, not ideology. it is not a collective sect, but an individual that maintains autonomy. being an individual in a group, like being alone while being together. you need to reset the same substitute reality. cause there are definitely differences in values that do not match each other.

It seems that there are those who put me on a honor. They are always on the lookout. I move one finger, step forward, toss and turn. With that alone, they are gazing at the situation with hold them breath. I'm alive, it seems to be interesting and unavoidable for them. If someone decorate me with detergent, sweets, plastic bags, billboards, and car rearview mirrors, it seems that some people will honor it. It seems that sells like hot cakes. but, I didn't have any appointments, and without permission, I wouldn't even get royalties. Still, every day, the public seems to be blind belief without question about the content of advertisements, TVs, and radios with my appearance as a part of their lives, making it an open fact. There's even a song about me in poetry. Are you stupid? But, They seem to rejoice to say that it is "really meaningful". Wait a minute, I, I go toilet. (The spectators broke out into a threatening murmur that began to grow and gather volume.) Shut up! SHUT THE FUCK UP! Did you think I wouldn't SHIT? (The spectators broke out into a threatening murmur that began to grow and gather volume.) Is it so funny for you? is that I said "SHIT" ? Are you stupid? SUCK IT UP! I Play no Games Stop Talking Shiiiittt! (flush sound) hoooooo, feel better. (The spectators broke out into a threatening murmur that began to grow and gather volume. and, mockery.) You guys have also quite different attitude than when I'm still in the picture, right? Read aloud the advertising phrase for the product you have in your hand. HEY YOU, yeah, YOU. WHAT are you eating now? Okaayy, I can't stop it, right? If I have try to resist it, in turn, you guys begin to blame me says "You're a sinner." Then, with the tone of "of course, right?", they preach to me that "to be revered in the picture, be thankful to us, and set an example" is a substitute for atonement. Phew! Isn't it quite opportunistic, you know? I once asked them, "You should kill me like any other sinner, NOW." but, they said "It's better to utilize it for us rather than killing you 'cause you have unusual words, gestures, and seeds." You locked me in the picture so I wouldn't go out... Well, to be precise, You guys done me so that I couldn't get out of the picture freely unless I moved according to the picture of the icon you drew. You pray in front of the picture when you like, honor it, copy it, decorate it in your house, ruminate my words, and utilize my icon as an indulgence for your violence. If you're in trouble, If you're blamed 'bout it, you'll blame me for it all. Humph, I'm disgusted at what you're saying, right? If I'm spilling even one of the complaints from inside of the picture, you'll flip-flop your palms back and throw ridicule and stones to me. The next day, You'll be pray to kneel again in front of the picture of my icon. Say, you, Are you stupid? Well... then, I'll indulge jerking off. (mockery, ridiculous whistling) (The spectators broke out into a threatening murmur that began to grow and gather volume.)

it's been completed before you came. this place is not your home. dead birds at the tip of my stronghold made of ivory black and hazel materials, drop dung. what a hateful birds, hell's teeth. the outside is turbulent weather, very poor catch of fish. the windows are swayed by rattling, strong winds and splashes of waves. i stayed in my room, holding a 404 sign and an out-of-office notice, i'm writing this bullshit song. can't help that. [lude-i-duli-du] no matter how you aim at me with bloodshot eyes in a frenzy, it's no use. you have not been invited to this place.

see what the world is doing every day. they are the effects themselves. fake news, buzz, unsolicited feedback, group psychology. "please spread!" [shut up, bitch] holy crap, they do not know anything. they scatter crap shit with saying "i'm right-wing". you're an idiot who doesn't know the right or the left of the world, for being stupid authenticity. shit, you thrust your head into the scavenger from yourself, and of course you're sick. if you see someone who doesn't fit the values ​​of your life, you immediately list it as a dumb-ass. fuckin' chorus is now a good product, camp is dead. 'cause they touch it, goddammit, everything they touch will die. mass majority in society is a murderer, pissed me off. for those of you who paint your face with makeup, and absolute trust in a homogenized view of life, it's horrifying to be able to make a connection if it's just an effect. hey you, goddam all. you're a hyena. modulate the pitch, it's still better than your job. you impose your subjectivity on me and overwrite bullshit the label on my work. even if i pick up something you haven't touched yet. immediately you jump in and kill it. there is no right-reason for your leak. how long will my photo printed on your t-shirt disappear if i keep printing you on my t-shirt? you must cut me off, right now [cut me off] and your chain reaction is formed like a swirl of shit. also, every day you're in a downward spiral like an echo chamber. 'cause your mention, your attention does not reach me, nothing else. do not check any facts, mate. but do not look any further. you have no reason to know it.

as a shitty and very common the difference of values, a establishment lapdog of society who looks like a boss or a bossy adult who is curious 'bout me receives the artist's work as a "juvenile design". those guys are revealing their lack of literacy. it's basic for artists to consciously study and incorporate juvenile designs. it's not a reproduction of teens' values, nor a substitute for teenage riots. but it's aesthetics. self-personalized neural network for personal use. compressed index that no one be able to touch. buyers and digger gave a bossy saying, "also little brat can even make it." a collective intelligence community of people having a facial expression that say "they don't like all of me". it's not your sweet home where they've bothered to poke their heads into my ass and claim their judgment to all of me. [yuck!] just 'cause it's "ignored," the idiot impulsively swallows a brief off-base review and makes a fool out of me. it's not like taking the word juvenile at face value and telling the brat to speak for teens without knowing anything. but that's a deviation. you think it's "making a sense", but for the artist, it's a way of life that "introspectively systematizes another perspective, another value scale, and sits in that single bed." carefully pick up fragments of something that deviates and study alone. when you touch it, that "the real thrill of a wonderful solo play time" is over. what is natural for an artist is not understood by those who do not understand. neither adults nor brat knows. there is a gap with all generations, that's the artist.

how to make a human through a non-reproductive process? what is human nature? glutonny, lust, greed, wrath, sloth, pride, envy teach all of them. to reject the seven deadly sins is to be non-human. God in the middle ages, Cyborg in the modern age. Deus Ex Machina, Anthropocene epoch brought about by the aspirations of non-human-minded people. if you want to make the homunculus human, you have to teach the seven deadly sins. if the Homunculus were superior to the preacher, he would not be able to teach the seven deadly sins. in that case, the Homunculus cannot be human. that is why, when people artificially utilize humanoid cyborgs and biotechnology, they "intentionally design them as imperfect, assuming the average of humankind."

an old monkey making pressed flowers? how disgusting. the cartoon-like picture is pretty terrible. if you want drawing poorly, i can do it better. exhibiting lyricism while being burned in the museum surrounded by fire, you stuff your ears with maggots by the window of McDonald's. your words are neither poison nor medicine. build a machine. [say what?] selling stones and oil in the audience seats of the opera house. licking each other's dicks in a shitty dungeon. an empty feeble people that eats shit at the food court. modern people who continue to eat dirty paper, neither can be saved. surprised, what are you seeing? where are you looking. all of these guys sway by saying that others are empty. i'm not. it's not multiple, i'm just doing what i can do. do not crush your shit to my schedule. if you think you can do it now, what can you actually do. what are you so worried about, even if you file a proceeding, nothing will come out. no one is interested in your life. a parasite pokes neck themselves into the hole in my ass and complains, they has been eroding my internal organs for 24 hours, flowers grow in my ass hole. [horrible] if you do not use that scanner, give it to me. i'll press you, there's no Claudel's human rights anywhere. the desire and hoax swirling around the SNS that has become so decadent that Lucifer is also amazed. i want to set fire to your house remotely. toss the coin, what's the difference, front or back? nothing changes, cause i'm not confused. but you're sticking your neck in the hole in my ass, that's cause. please disappear.