For Melodic Hardcore / Metalcore fans! more

I’m bringing it all out. Drive me crazy, I’m losing my mind. Ready to play with me? My soul is free. * Hey, you beast, how’s it going? You can’t get tired like that—are you warming up on the *sfara* before you’ve even had your *popara*? You look like a boiled potato that’s been scalded—are you all marked up, or not? Is that the problem? Don’t just stand there, get moving, don’t doze off! It’s a non-stop party—worth a million *stotinki* (or "cents," as we call them now, to sound modern). With a Sofia accent—it’s a precedent, my friend! God damn, man—take it easy, spin it gently, speak softly... not like some Brit, but in Bulgarian. Okay, I’ll stop, bro. Damn, what a piece of work this idiot is! Lay it all out—here’s some prose, straight from the table to the nose. Ouch—got burned? Hand over that straw! And crank up *Puls*—because "friends" is the opposite of "traitors"—those envious soothsayers and orators, those fanatical theorists, hungry for fame and "tits on pizzas," but their music is just worthless chaff. I’m cutting it here—I’ve had it up to *here*. * Envy is the passion of the weak—those lacking ideas or a spark. Understand this: with envy, you’ll never be free. From friend to traitor, a weak writer or a dreamer— A flatterer to your face, but in the end, consumed by envy, you remain nothing more than an ordinary listener. * Ahem, ahem... *amigo*, what’s the deal? How’s the jam? Need more RAM? (Oh, for God’s sake, speak Bulgarian, you moron!) Seriously, man—what is this? You’re living in some Jean-Claude Van Damme movie, you infantile fool! Acting all sweet like *Kill Bill*—honestly, your "sweet" words, rhymes, and "bullets" are so full of delusions—like burning tires on *Zagovezni*—that they’ve actually given me constipation! Just stop it! Drop the malice, put on the white robe of repentance—or else this curse might land you in a coma, or the grave! What kind of trend is this—getting slapped in the face by a "friend"? God, wake me up from this nightmare! Let there be a gift for my neighbor and for me—let us all have a harem, let there be plenty of everything for everyone, so that nothing is ever lacking! Let our souls be clean—no hidden agendas, no wreckage, no broken pieces—just love! That is my call! * Envy is the passion of the weak—those lacking ideas or a spark. Understand this: with envy, you’ll never be free. From friend to traitor, a weak writer or a dreamer— A flatterer to your face, but in the end, consumed by envy, you remain nothing more than an ordinary listener. * Are you trying to become a winner by dreaming of being a leader? You’re no teacher—you’re a destroyer, a plunderer of your own friends! In your brutality, you lose the loyalty of friends; you’re not living in reality. And that will prove fatal—the moment you no longer feel the warmth of brotherly connection. I don’t need proof of a friend’s betrayal; it is a violation of trust—vile, underhanded hypocrisy, deceit, and treachery that leaves a wound on those close to you. You cannot use a mask and soft, flattering words to push me toward fear and anger. Sin and rage—this is a sign not to live in darkness. But believe me: I was, I will be, and I shall remain. * From friend to traitor—a poor writer or a dreamer. A flatterer to one’s face, yet in the end, consumed by your own envy, you remain nothing more than an ordinary listener. * From friend to traitor—a poor writer or a dreamer. A flatterer to one’s face, yet in the end, consumed by your own envy, you remain nothing more than an ordinary listener.more