Revolution is a lost word, a lost thought; a forgotten action long since stricken from our tongues.
Our blades have dulled; our venom has been diluted by inaction and indifference. What do we care of those outside our boxes? We sit entertained as our minds melt and our passions wane.
Freedom, honor, respect, these words have evolved into catch phrases; relics worn for show like medals.
We graze in our field, chewing, always chewing; unaware of the fences that restrict us, indifferent to our domestication.
Consume! Consume you beasts! Make sure your masters are as fat as you! How can the show continue without you? You must play your part, oblivious. Let them create your contentment; they will dull you like your blades and dilute you like your poisons. You’ve boxed up your weapons and now you pay them for storage.
Believe what they tell you and think of nothing else. They offer you both options. Choose the team you root for, who cares? They own them both. The game is fixed.
Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain; there are no strings, no puppets. You are free to do as you choose as long as they approve.
