Children of gods, children of ages. Let us ride the tiger once more, let us reach for the ocean of forgotten reality. I am the guardian of peace. Who but me knows the way in this plastic, hysterical inverted modern age. Progressivism has failed, has he not. We are the victims of inverse evilution, the victims of rage of the women and the weak. The whore rises her bloody hand against my sign, but I reach for the spell in the eye of the storm. Before us gods, we swim in sea of plastic and false promise, and the promise that was born after our time. Be free once more sons of Chronos, we are the water and we destroy the rock. Future calls do not let her down!