Hell yeah! The die is cast. And it only gives out one more number drowned in the waters of shame. Our lives - not even sold at a discount - are so reduced to that fucking alphabet: "T.E.R.R.O.R.I.S.T." That's the way they call the nameless and the faceless . Then we laugh, and sing at the top of our lungs this verse, learned in a seemingly better life... until we die: "I m not like them, and I can't pretend The sun is gone but I have a right The day is done but I still have to run I sink; my tomb will lie under the sea" I could die from drowning, from starvation or from the plague, I don't really care. I fled from God, a stick in my hand. I defied the sea, reddened by the blood of the ancients, and the Sun Of August TWO THOUSAND AND ONE. To be neither at home in their homeland, nor in yours, is the price to pay for you, for he who enters the world of the in-between. What's the use in loving a thing which condemned itself to hatred? God himself is powerless and, he resigned himself to let hell thrives on each side.