Forwarded from Corpse World Monologues
There's something to be said about style and dressing well. No fighting side, no matter how good or evil, will ever be capable of riding their reputation out on pure morals alone.
Dress to impress.
Dress to impress.
What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water. Only
There is shadow under this red rock,
Come in under the shadow of this red rock,
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.This media is not supported in your browser
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now please face the wallForwarded from Corpse World Monologues
It's a sign of the times when all the countries have been brought to their last jerks of life by a microbe instead of the great revolutionaries who have been promising change for the past decade.