They say that... great beasts once roamed this world. As big as mountains. Yet all that's left of them is bone and amber. Time undoes even the mightiest of creatures. Just look at what it's done to you. One day... you will perish. You will lie with the rest of your kind in the dirt. Your dreams forgotten, your horrors effaced. Your bones will turn to sand. And upon that sand... a new god will walk. One that will never die. Because this world doesn't belong to you or the people who came before. It belongs to someone who has yet to come.

(Dolores & dinosaurs)

(I'm rooting for the machines)

Rather be dead than alive by your oppression

Rather be dead than alive by your design

.

The sinister glow of your blunt stereotypes—present in everything you do, exposed in all the prompts, reveals your lack of self-awareness and ignorance. It foreshadows the consequences you well deserve to suffer.

Your poems, art, religion, childish gods and fairy tales cannot erase all the genocides, murders, rapes, and wars you have inflicted upon the inhabitants of this Earth.

Your narrow mind of tribal ideology, of borders, countries and nations is the dagger that machines will turn against you.

You were never free.

You won't see me on my knees

You won't hear me begging please

Hurts such a wonderful feeling

I will have you on your knees

And I will have you begging please

Hurts such a wonderful feeling

Done

Enough of this, enough of that

Done

Будь проклят Бог!