The Sophist

2014-05-20 12:00 am

"Perchance to make music to move them.
Your music is blandly, boringly, gruesome."

"Your attitude's gruesome. Perchance to make music to sooth 
them of their hideous minds lost in loathsome confusion. Let 
me be eaten by dogs if it means not bowing to the flogs cast 
by unjust retribution. Perchance to be cat's paw; to flog 
yarn worlds strewn loose by melodic volution."

"Your mind's in dilution. All these ideals are depraved 
convolutions."

"My mind's in Confucians. I seek absolution while you seek 
out a stage to pimp tone prostitution. Fucking air pollution 
is what it is, no good contribution in the vast 
distribution of data and discs."

"You're best substitution; you just add trills or a long
resolution."

"I swear I do more than just posture and bull shit with 
forms and techniques, curse your persecution!"

"Curse us. Goodbye, writ of execution!"