matters of faith

crisis of genre?
And age?

ageism is wearing on me.
I'm very much against it.
You know, at first I was too young for everything.
Then, abruptly, too old, by the date of birth already.
Because, in that time, (while we were away, anyway),
a lot of neuroborns have been born,
and they grew into a generation of people.

But the batch didn't turn out well.
Unattractive and feeble-minded,
Why should we talk to them?
But then again.
what's the point?
I must be sclerosis.
Ah, yung chun here, and maybe if you met me in person,
You might catch a glimpse of what it means to be forever young.
Eternal spring, ponime? No?
Is there a speech pathologist on deck or not?
Yeah, dementia's a double-price job.

But girls, you're so ugly, really,
However, to the boys, according to their own.
This isn't a generational battle,
Just shut your mouths.
Because we're old school,
As I remember now, the New Russians.
purple jackets, gold chains,
They shot each other, but the rule remains.
The rule remains:
A mouth open corresponds to a gun.

We're not accusing you
that your parents didn't try.
And thought in the process of becoming successful,
And you now represent their intentions as morons,
And you turned out sixth-rate.
But happy birthday, of course,
And my tolerance is as vast as the ocean.

Just one more time, it's better
Don't open your mouth, young people.
There's no youth in you,
How did you get into this world in the first place?
Escape from hell? The secrets of your mom's vagina?
You see, you weren't born young,
but dead.
No one to blame.
Nobody's to blame.
It's just Grandpa Wu-Kung warning you.

Just don't remind me of your age,
or I'll remind you of your IQ,
pimply face, crooked legs,
you know the drill.
But some things you weren't even told.
Grandma knew, she lied to her granddaughters.

And these souls wanted to live at any cost.
The gates are being breached from the other side.
Well, welcome from hell
to the other hell.
You're welcome.
Good luck.
Being born dead is no picnic either.
Kids, don't just agree to anything here.
That's how Grandpa Wu Kung would have behaved.

Don't be fools,
Are you young?
For how long?
Since when?
How long ago?
How old are you, if it's no secret?
A thousand? Five hundred? One thousand five hundred years old?
Were you a Cro-Magnon?
A lizard?
But,
at least you met them?

Ageism, uh, leave it alone,
It's for the first time anyone's ever been
they've ever been to the table at a party.
We have to take care of them.

We seem young, but we're old,
And we die without end,
but we safely remember nothing.
Whiskey, thank you!
Friends, happy long life to all!

That's a toast, I'm afraid there's another round to come.

Are we still young?
Oh, how many times, really?
You've got a body but no head?
Haven't you all been boiled in butter yet?
Well, that means
you've never served as an ambassador.

Child, do you think you're in trouble?
Cheer up!
This hell is big,
we have to go on all the rides.

All you have to do to live is to be alive.
Ageism?
Grandson, remind your grandmother
what that word means?
Sclerosis, I guess.

We're having a crisis of genre,
and age. Yes, son.
Grandpa Wukong didn't hear you.
What are you saying?
Oh, baby, the praying mantis ate the fly because he
waited too long. - It's a wonderful parable.
Yeah

(...No, snail, it's not a matter of faith.
Nobody gives a shit whether you believe in anything or not.)

((-Are you gonna work tonight or not?
-I just can't seem to finish the bottle.
It was filled with this text. I swear.))