Из альбома: Against The Grain
random blobs of power expressed as that which we all disregard,
ordered states of nature on a scale that no one thinks about, don't
speak to me of anarchy or peace of calm revolt, man, we're in a play
of slow decay orchestrated by boltzmann, it's entropy, it's not a
human issue, entropy, it's matter of course, entropy, enegery at all
levels, entropy, from it you can not divorce and your pathetic moans
of suffrage tend to lose all significance, extinction, degradation;
the natural outcomes of our ordered lives, power, motivation;
temporary fixtures for which we strive, something in our synapses
assures us we're ok but in our desequilibrium we simply can not stay,
it's entropy..., a stolid proposition from a man unKempt as i, my
affectatious i can not rectify, but we are out of equilibrium
unnaturally, a pang of conciousness at death and then you will agree