We are the hollow men. We are the stuffed men. With direct eyes we will
cross into death’s other kingdom. Celebrating our cocaine-fueled apathy,
feasting on our hysterical emptiness. Dancing on the entropic spiral
downwards into disorder. Frying our synapses with chemicals and
technology. Short-circuited morality. Defining our selves in [bad word] 
This is the way the world ends. Not with a whimper but a
bang.