The Knife Of Never Letting Go

New World and the town where I'm from (avoiding saying the name, avoiding thinking the name) seem to be nothing but lies. But that's different. I said it before, men lie all the time, to theirselves, to other men, to the world at large, but who can tell when the lie's a strand in all the other lies and truths floating round outta yer head? Everyone knows yer lying but everyone else is lying, too, so how can it matter? What does it change? It's just part of the river of a man, part of his Noise, and sometimes you can pick it out, sometimes you can't.

Nobody does nothing for you. If you don't change it, it don't get changed.

Knowledge is dangerous and men lie and the world keeps changing, whether I want it to or not.