I Now Know, By An Almost Fatalistic

It's Not My Fault If Reality Is Marxist

How Is It Possible To Feel Nostalgia For A World I Never Knew?

My Nostrils Dilate While Savoring The Acrid Odor Of Gunpowder And Blood… Crazy With Fury I Will Stain My Rifle Red While Slaughtering Any Surrendered Enemy That Falls In My Hands! With The Deaths Of My Enemies I Prepare My Being For The Sacred Fight And Join The Triumphant Proletariat With A Bestial Howl!

If You Have The Capacity To Tremble With Indignation Every Time That An Injustice Is Committed In The World, Then We Are Comrades.

This Is The Cuzco Asking You To Pull On Your Armor And, Mounted On The Ample Back Of A Powerful Horse, Cleave A Path Through The Defenseless Flesh Of A Naked Indian Flock Whose Human Wall Collapses And Disappears Beneath The Four Hooves Of The Galloping Beast.