So it begins, an agonizing start. Singing songs of shame... Making pain an art. Writing anthems of death to which the young ghouls sing.
It all means nothing.
"Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law" in this dance macabre, this vicious cabaret, united in our apathy... and the sorrow and misery of which we sing, it all means nothing.
The interlude has been left out. There will be no waiting, the new show starts now. Your set has burned and your crowd applauds a replacement cast without your flaws. Your show is ours, the drama dead... No tragedy for the old misled. The triple-six is burning bright.
