Dwarves
Blood Guts & Pussy

THE REVIEW

I am 22 years old, the coverage should be student: faculty of humanities.

My professors, reading stagnant and outdated passages according to modern taste, have multiple orgasms
"Ahh here Tasso manifests himself as one of the best inks ever, read, read kids, ahhhhh, ohhhhh, ihhhhh"
And other vocal coitus from over-fifty-year-olds: for me, ninety percent of writers are failed losers with blood at rest, the real poems are the lips of my colleagues that shine like cherries at the Sunday market, I watch them when in a moment of Freudian unconsciousness they pass their pens into their mouths, up and down.

Tonight, crowded place, my girlfriend nearby looking at me puzzled "What's wrong?"
Me "I'm numb, I don't feel anything at all. I'm 22 years old, I hate what I'm studying, the linguistic variations that have transformed Boatman little arrow into Boatman, which in others elicits emphatic cultural 'OHH', in me generates pure boredom. I like music, food, cinema, sex, and drugs. That's it. I despise the idea of studying that bureaucratic spineless crap, I despise the idea of being harnessed 8 hours a day by a son-of-a-bitch employer and returning home dazed by fatigue-dinner-TV-sleep-work-family with smiles adjusted to Saratoga-gleaming home appliances-respected family-death".

A long-stemmed rose, a box of chocolates until senility spiced with offspring in which to reflect and instill values of common sense: is this what the average man wants? Good job, good friends, good car, good hobbies, gentle wife with a nice dog. Is that all, you human foul creatures? I am no better,Scum is the only word that comes to mind. I am a lunatic doubt-shitter and a lunatic doubt-shitter I will die.

Let’s continue, tonight she lets me go home melancholically as if she had fallen into a winter hibernation inside a paper house, I turn on my faithful mp3 player: Dwarves. "LET'S FUCK, DRUG STORE, INSECT WHORE": a nice fuck you to the composed driving force of our countries, this is rotten hardcore to the core that feeds on the sacred trilogy of Drugs, Sex and Rock n' Roll.

But it doesn’t do it winking at the necktied, it does it with a cannibal primitivism worthy of the gem albums of the genre. 14 minutes to tell you just one thing: your intellectualism and your well-illuminated shivers from decomposed mannequins are shit and will remain shit, ugly son of a bitch.

Fuck, Do Drugs, Destroy. One of the definitive works of the Hardcore genre.