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Propagandhi Today S Empires Tomorrow S Ashes

tortured-artist college-rock and floor-punching macho pabulum. Back to the Motor League I go. Once thought I drew a lucky hand. Turned out to be a live grenade of play-acting "anarchists" and Mommy's

asked some questions and wasn't satisfied with the answers. It seems that's the biggest crime since not fitting in. But we're all here: King Diamond, todd's

of needle-dicks and first-amendments. I can out-think, out-drink, out-fuck-you-all so fuck your bullshit 'femi-nazi' crap, no needle-dick's gonna silence

single-file First-world frat-boys and prairie skinheads or mourn a murdered friend who will never walk a mile in this tiny woman's shoes. Drink

words cant do justice to pain seems like they cant feel a thing.Ordinary people do fucked up things when fucked up things become ordinay.I cant promise

Sleeping masters roused to burning homes from beds. Steeping toddlers plucked from their watery deaths: ribbons, plaques and soft-soap are the ephemeral

funeral procession, they buried it deep in the earth as an emblem of the dissolution and internment of their Publick Liberty. Someday, somewhere, today's empires are tomorrow's ashes

Every fucking day our cities tell us what they think of justice. They lock the courageous away as the cowards plaster the cracks spreading through the

Wadia's best friend's youngest sister was denied a proper burial because for two days they couldn't douse the flames the allied planes had showered on