• The throwback impacts farther and farther, larger and larger than expected
    Now the ripple through space has reached me, has touched me, has affected me, has shaped me, has instilled a purpose in me
    But even that's not enough for 'justice' to suit me
    So I take up arms-- starting with a shaved head and monk's robe and sandals.
    Let me in on this 'stYLE' war; Codenamed: Mine is greater, much greater than yours.

    Dirty names, spit upon me, curses from the laity, and even more disgusting patriots disdain
    I will continue to resist, until you finally desist and accept the terms of this agreement: My body and soul are not for your taking.
    My style sets me free from their consciousness.

    I push harder and harder to make them desist
    Therefore it gets much harder and harder to make my style
    Nationalism runs rampant everywhere...but buckled to imposed WESTern power
    I'm progressive but not in this way, their way.
    I don't want a uniform world, I wanna show that there should be style outside the television ad world.

    Check out my non-WESTern stYLE. "You like what you see? No? Oh well, conformity and homogeny was never my thing and I reject your hegemony with equal passion."

    I push harder and harder to tilt this counterweight.
    The more you don't desist, the harder and harder I jump to make this style balance the scale.

    "Are they after you guys too? Don't worry, there's enough room in my robe for all of you." Later at the point of which my face and a muzzle intersects, I repeat, "Aiding the enemy?" Not one to give in and give up, I say, "No". Oh s**t, someone sneezed. Gunfire.

    Within minutes from now I am a victorious victim
    Gracious as I didn't go down in a T-shirt and dungarees, the ultimate win.
    As with all that resists, they rape my style
    "Karma...", my last breath declares as they place a cross at my repose
    And thus, my style has made an impression in history and martyrdom solidifies it.

    I resist and refuse while soaring down a real WESTern hell.
    The haloes may burn me, the white light totally blinds me, but I still don't back off nor faulter
    The deeper and deeper I descend, the better and better of an impact I make.
    Surely the Bodhisattva will smile for me.