This Work Is A Torture On The

Utopia Is On The Horizon. I Move Two Steps Closer; It Moves Two Steps Further Away. I Walk Another Ten Steps And The Horizon Runs Ten Steps Further Away. As Much As I May Walk, I'll Never Reach It. So What's The Point Of Utopia? The Point Is This: To Keep Walking.

The Big Bankers Of The World, Who Practise The Terrorism Of Money, Are More Powerful Than Kings And Field Marshals, Even More Than The Pope Of Rome Himself. They Never Dirty Their Hands. They Kill No-one: They Limit Themselves To Applauding The Show.

I Can't Sleep. There Is A Woman Stuck Between My Eyelids. I Would Tell Her To Get Out If I Could. But There Is A Woman Stuck In My Throat

No History Is Mute. No Matter How Much They Own It, Break It, And Lie About It, Human History Refuses To Shut Its Mouth. Despite Deafness And Ignorance, The Time That Was Continues To Tick Inside The Time That Is.

The World Is Becoming An Immense Military Base, And That Base Is Becoming A Mental Hospital The Size Of The World. Inside The Nuthouse, Which Ones Are Crazy?