Ours is a dripping, humid rainfall, tapping a gentle reminder upon the thatched rooftops of the uninitiated, in an ancient code belonging to a notably sacrificed political faction beyond the common recorded word - it resonates in amongst the young who've yet to reap rewards beyond simply disrupting the doldrum manifesto, enforcing regime and critical municipal decisions in the nesting minds of foals and fools alike. Every life or opinion will be heard

Measure not the lingering silence that has recently threatened to lessen the severity of our message, lest it grant upon our enemies a false sense of victory.

Willing and able, delight in the triumph that is our maleficence! Our mutual goals and triumphs shall be parlayed for a fitting ritual, all collected and categorised in a place of our wrongdoing! Yea, verily dost the juices of our creative blood flow forward towards the feet of the unassuming Gods; blister their skin with the boiling vehemence born our mortal toils!