The urge to purge is primal and hated. The good is a hated urge. The drive is for living a sneer.
The reluctant son of a bitch can't help himself, can't
he;p giving in and fighting the good fight no matter how hard he fights
it, no matter how damned idealistic and sweet and lovely it seems.
The
reluctant damned harpie can't help herself, can't he;p giving in and
fighting the good fight no matter how hard she fights it, no matter how
damned idealistic and sweet and lovely it seems.
The drive is for
power, for peace and quiet, for humbling enemies and clowns, for keeping
maggots and crumbs at bey. The drive is for allowing non intrusive
bums to be bums, intrusive bums to get whacked. The drive is for to
leave all the lame and weak bastards to their own resources, to just
carve out a nice little safe haven for oneself. The drive is for living
a sneer.
Angels and bad men come and go and listening to them,
watching them makes one brain pebbles. The urge to purge is primal and
hated. The good is a hated urge.
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