“Rabbits, rabbits, I’m hunting rabbits.
If I catch them I’ll make it through the winter.
Times are tough up here, I’m almost out of cash.
I write to you, my only friend, a man I have never met.
It’s rage I’m hiding, I’ll speak to no one.
By the firelight I’ll assemble my devices that kill.
The world gets evil, I will fight back.
No one will know who I am.”
Is this the way? Is this the way?
This is the way it will go:
you’re all so fascinated by anyone who can
destroy with so little remorse
and who’s not afraid to write
what’s wrong with this world.
“I want to come visit you, one day I will.
Perhaps the money will come.
I want to see another way to live.
You have friends, you have family.
That will save you from the darkness, from taking it
all in,
from demanding that something be done.”
Secret rage, private deaths, lashing out at the villains
I choose.
It’s wrong, and evil, but people will listen.
Why do they flock to the strange and the sinister?
The annihilation has already begun.
This culture will end itself, we all know that.
Rage will wake up the sleepers.
Shock of the new, shock of the old, the same old complaint.
“No one knows who I am.
No one knows who anyone is, really.
Our secrets live with us, and we are as closed as
we pretend to be open.
I am the voice of repulsion
I am the voice of the other side.
I am the voice of the danger of this world,
I am your worst fear, in your safest hour
it could all be gone, it might all blow away.”
The package arrives, you imagine explosions,
could it be for me?, you say to me:
Now
you know which side you’re on. [3]