This is the United States of America And you've got a right to hate who you want So let's start busting heads Black against white Yellow versus red The fighting won't stop Until we're dead Until we're all dead Burning, looting Riots destroy the masses Nightfall brings death City reduced to ashes Don't call me your brother 'Cause I ain't your fucking brother We fell from different cunts And your skin Your skin's an ugly color, ahh Race war We're going to a race war Hate war We're going to a hate war Rage against a homicide Bloodshed, rampage Torture is not subsiding Chaos, bedlam Violent ethnic uprising Moslems against christians And the arabs versus jews The catholics and protestants No one wins we all loose Race war We're going to a race war Hate war We're going to a hate war Everybody's gonna die! Xenophobic tendencies Instilled in us at birth Are mislabled racism Hostilities getting worse Accept the fact, my distant country Isolated environments May just be the key, get up Human beings suspicious Soon fear grows to hate We'll have each other by the throat When forced to integrate Mothers watch their children die At each other's hand Cain and Abel set the course Ethnocentric command, no Race war Hate war Race war You can run but you can't hide
Bêlit: Conan, do you fear the gods?"
Conan: "I would not tread on their shadow, Some gods are strong to harm, others, to aid; at
least so say their priests. Mitra of the Hyborians must be a strong god, because his people have builded their cities over the
world. But even the Hyborians fear Set. And Bel, god of thieves, is a good god. When I was a thief in Zamora I learned of him."
Bêlit: "What of your own gods? I have never heard you call on them."
Conan: "Their chief is Crom. He dwells on a great mountain. What use to call on him? Little he cares if men live or die. Better to be silent
than to call his attention to you, he will send you dooms, not fortune! He is grim and loveless, but at birth he breathes power to
strive and slay into a man's soul. What else shall men ask of the gods?"
Bêlit: "But what of the worlds beyond the river of death?"
Conan: "There is no hope here or hereafter in the cult of my people, In this world men struggle and suffer vainly,
finding pleasure only in the bright madness of battle; dying, their souls enter a gray misty realm of clouds and icy winds, to
wander cheerlessly throughout eternity."
Bêlit: "Life, bad as it is, is better than such a destiny. What do you believe, Conan?
Conan: "I have known many gods. He who denies them is as blind as he who trusts them too deeply. I seek not beyond death. It may
be the blackness averred by the Nemedian skeptics, or Crom's realm of ice and cloud, or the snowy plains and vaulted halls
of the Nordheimer's Valhalla. I know not, nor do I care. Let me live deep while I live; let me know the rich juices of red meat
and stinging wine on my palate, the hot embrace of white arms, the mad exultation of battle when the blue blades flame and
crimson, and I am content. Let teachers and priests and philosophers brood over questions of reality and illusion. I know this:
if life is illusion, then I am no less an illusion, and being thus, the illusion is real to me. I live, I burn with life, I love, I slay, and
am content."
Premiering performances from WAC Fest 2022 this Saturday 7/16 at 7pm ET/12am UK on the below channels:
Shing.tv:
https://shing.tv/channel/white-art-collective
Odysee:
https://odysee.com/@WhiteArtCollective
Entropy:
https://entropystream.live/not-found/WhiteArtCollective/no-stream
DLive:
https://dlive.tv/WhiteArtCollective
YouTube:
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCoqzrAm0A7Zt1t3AHCEs3Yg