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Bathos and its dilettantes, bow down to the Iconoclast for it's all been
done before and I yearn to break the symmetry of you all.
“We but yen to suffocate in this box,” so they pride, stumbling towards the
morgue, clutching their instruments. Worthless clichés are their lives, so why
won't they die?
Dive deep into the shallow grave dug by the hands of fools, but live not by
their simplicities, their precepts nor their rules.
Bathos and its dilettantes - mere copies of mere copies of mere copies of
absolute horseshit.

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