“And so I am the prince of sounds that make ears ring.
My princess, kiss me with your sweet lips and lo, my heart will sing.
If art is in yourself, or in a class at school, if art is ego and selfishness, and at the mercy of primitive tools, we sing sweet good-byes in screams and screeches and bury these knives in your heart, no paintings or poems to let you live on, we’ve seen the last of art.
As servants, and lovers, we wash your feet and cry out into the dark: ‘The noise, the beauty, the love you bring me stabs these knives right into art!’
Art is not the world, art is in our hearts.
Stab art to death.”
– Showbread, Stab Art To Death on No Sir, Nihilism Is Not Practical