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drakkar sauna - don't hex a polygon lyrics

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[spoken transmission, with old 1950’s sp-ce-static in the background]

one, two, three…

astronauts. angry mathematicians. imperial deliberations. cosmic visions. what begins as an outpost or a station becomes an american lunar metropolis, or a sino-asian lunar metropolis, or a métropole lunaire française. it’s all the same: they imagine a state, settled, then named. i imagine something different once the moon is self-sufficient. what’s to prevent them, with all those scientist who refuse submission, and deny that which binds us?

false doctors of houston, end your calculations

brothers, hold your arms



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