Inépcia

As hienas não sabem caçar, por isso riem-se na esperança de cansar. Caçar e cansar não são bem a mesma coisa, mas a hiena tem ouvido mouco.

E o leão enfastiado tem de decidir se cospe para o lado ou se suja as suas garras.

Há pessoas que não se importam de ser hienas.

"Quem? Eu?"

"I live in knowledge of real truth

And all my gods are great!"

The doleful cant of a bigot

Uma dedicatória

Last Gentle Call for the Blind

Slow parade passes by
All masks for free, they say
Their thoughts so blindly focused
On the feet of clay

(A charade to hard for the fool,
But here’s a hint tool)

You’ve forced the entrance into a foreign world
Hopelessly tried to write your name in the dark
Pleading helplessly in a cage of cold
And unaware of the edge upon which you coast

Slow parade passing by
All masks for free
Which one will it be
Which one could ride high

But don’t you know, child, that:
Stalker doesn’t really rhyme with grace
As intruder does not fit in claims of kindness?
Fake is where “great humanity” finds its place

So, when your disguise has fallen astray
And all your deeds are there to be seen
How will you save your cherished dignity
From your own creation, this shameful scene

Slow parade passing by
All masks for free
How much pride should you buy
To save yourself from mockery

- Just gather your twisted moaning
If you don’t want to see how it goes