Those old hippy eyes blink and twitch and glass at all the right places, inflections and concerns. The hippy wants details/ Facts and proof. He's got his definitions laced with a little personal, professional spice: a touch of ground breaking compassion and ecumenical grand-standing, maybe some easily understood and checked: love, trust, a close shoulder.

It's all done for the right reasons. The core fear patterns, those horrid demons and society's right to know. The information contained will help -help- absolutely everyone. The police who're there to protect. The media who're there to raise awareness. The doctors who're there to cure.

Go on boy.
What do you want?
What do you do with that thing?
What do you want to get close to?
LET ME TAKE YOU DOWN
MEMORIES WILL NEVER DIE
HOW I LOVE TO KILL YOU
Josef Mengele
Without the politics?
Jeffrey Dahmer
Without the bleeding hearts, therapy groups and nigger TV rants?
And Gein. Bundy. Brady.
Hell.
Without the finger pointing; without the camp and mercy.
Khomeini.  Hussein.  Fucking Ceausescu without the world reports 
and second guesses and fucking weather.
Abortion, Fear.  And violent, violent Madness.

Child rape.  Sexual mutilation and murder.
Without the understanding and bloated old mother-care.  Talkshow 
anger and closeted moral dry humping.
IN MY MIND ONLY PAIN
Those hippy holes spark with lust and greed behind impossible 
concern and compassion.  The perfect image behind the running 
make-up, shiny square teeth and demographics.  The perfect mind: 
over-heating and straining overtime to fill in the lines and blanks of 
the image it wants to see behind the digitized blurred-out spots and 
60 MINUTES.  Whore specific tastes and degenerate needs feed and 
create the fantasy; the reality of choice.
BASTARDS SONS BEGAT YOUR CUNTING DAUGHTERS 
DO YOU WANT TO DIE?
HAVE YOU EVER FELT THE NEED TO SEE MORE THAN YOU CAN SEE?

american@american.recordings.com

Blame these people for it all.