Before You Came The World Was Prose.

The Word Is A Bouncing Ball The Ruler Throws From His Balcony. The Word Has Been A Shot Of Morphine. Rulers Calm Their People With Speeches.

If You Want To Kill Somebody, Conquer His Heart, Then Leave Slowly And Leave Them Between Death And Madness.

Our Enemies Did Not Cross Our Borders They Crept Through Our Weaknesses Like Ants.

Our Shouting Is Louder Than Our Actions, Our Swords Are Taller Than Us, This Is Our Tragedy. In Short We Wear The Cape Of Civilisation But Our Souls Live In The Stone Age

Days Will Pass, And You’ll Abandon Things You Were Addicted To, And Leave Someone, And Cancel A Dream, And Finally, Accept A Reality.