Eyes closed, pitch blackness. A sense of evil. A seductive, malevolent vibe beckons. Cut. A pool of blood, undulating with red waves, shimmers with breathtaking heat. A wolf, black eyes, howls beneath a burning midnight sun. Cut.

There is no purpose here but to give succor to the lie. Listen to the sounds of sheer chaos. Cut. Snippets of grand truth ripped from primeval chaos. Rotating scenes of razor-sharp blades. The whispering voices of angels. Cut.

The streets are all silent now. All that remains are haunted houses, row upon row of mute sentinels standing at quiet attention. Shrouded in conformity. Cloaked in the inevitability of death. We shuttle to work, to play, to the grave. As it was, and always will be, a new reality that greets each mindless day. Amen.

Except. There are a chosen few, who hear a low pulse in our heads. Barely discerned. It reaches out across the void of celestial time and ark space to others like us. Only the chosen hear. Only heretics understand. What you feel, what you hear...that sound is Revolution. Join us. Join our BLVCK CELEBRATION.