I was feeling quite fatalist when I made this, so the essence of the poem is the un-stoppable horror of a Sonic gone psychotic. Nobody wins, nobody gets out alive - just like life eh! I built the cut-up text around a nice image of Scott Walker, which is maybe a lazy way of ensuring his presence could be felt - although I think the wording maybe does the job in evoking his darkness, what with the 'whiffing of violets and viscera'.