Linux (i/ˈlɪnəks/ LIN-əks or /ˈlɪnʊks/ LIN-uuks) is a Unix-like computer operating system assembled under the model of free and open source software development and distribution. The defining component of Linux is the Linux kernel, an operating system kernel first released 5 October 1991 by Linus Torvalds.
Linux was originally developed as a free operating system for Intel x86-based personal computers. It has since been ported to more computer hardware platforms than any other operating system. It is a leading operating system on servers and other big iron systems such as mainframe computers and supercomputers: more than 90% of today's 500 fastest supercomputers run some variant of Linux, including the 10 fastest. Linux also runs on embedded systems (devices where the operating system is typically built into the firmware and highly tailored to the system) such as mobile phones, tablet computers, network routers, televisions and video game consoles; the Android system in wide use on mobile devices is built on the Linux kernel.
If I learnt anymore left I'd be eating dirt,
but I refuse to fall for any old platitude to peace,
a murmur heard under the din of the real world.
Those parentally invested bohemian pretensions
are wearing thin and thinly-veiled
like the hip in hippie and hypocrite.
So open-minded your brain's falling out.
Aren’t we already plugged in?
Or that is to say we are the contraption itself,
contingent on the selves that lived before.
Savanah-driven adaptations overlaid on ancient biology, nothing more.
Spilling out to trace the distant shores.
The briefest knee-jerk twitch,
the anatomy of grief that fills your skin -
perfected rules-of-thumb programmed in.
In patterns and cascades, digitally-made.
Our bodies, shutting down as we speak,
sculpted by the culling of the weak.
Aren’t we behaving plastically,
but in just the way spec’ed by our R&D;?
Bilateral symmetry
tugs our limbs to march to universal beats.
And if we were brains in vats,
I fail to see us being any more empty
or constrained by contingencies.
The heat of jealousy,
soldered in by reproductive economy;
a sense of beauty,
selected for by ancestral attentional needs;
the briefest knee-jerk twitch,
the anatomy of grief that fills your skin -
What remarkable defensiveness!
Anyone would think we were talking about life or death.
Oh wait a minute, I guess we are;
but if it's familiar so you dismiss it out-of-hand and heart.
So mumble something about we should because we can,
food chains and health demands.
But if suffering's unnecessary,
how can you justify it ethically?
It's conceivable that in a hundred years to come,
our descendants will look down on genocidal racists.
Sam Neil, I'd like to see you dance your way out of this one.
Think for yourself. Life begets life,
For a start, the earth is four and a half billion years old for god’s sake.
That unsavoury taste is the palpable palette of your faking, faith-fucked goals.
So let’s be reasonable and not think wishfully.
Those accomplishments of ‘man’ line the upper peaks
like teeth planted deeply in the gums,
‘neath a set of stars that twinkle just for you
(apparently it’s true though -
your every molecule unfolds from stardust,
your recipe written accumulatively
over vast vistas of time).
You can euphemise these insane holy wars
to ethnic cleansings or terrorisings,
but there’s such an obvious obtrusion behind it all.
You’re just as bad as each other.
You’re just as stupid, promptly decloud your heads
I fell for it despite myself.
A trite addiction to misery, a narcotic well,
boiled to steam. Split at the seams.
Crutch cut, bonds seemingly unseemly.
Dream time's over
and eye-to-eye with puppy eyes.
Hello and surprise!
I lost my legs.
The ability to walk is totally overrated.
I lost my legs.
Standing tall isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Lying with you is all I need.
You're killing me with that look;
that's all it took to rob my feet from me.
And what a rookie mistake
to take you as a blank slate
and not gracefully unaffected.
Downtime's over.
I've got something to tell you:
I lost my legs.
You're killing me in the sweetest way
possible, with the heaviest taste,
The heaviest taste.
An exquisite lace.
You're killing me, we are erased
without a trace.
I'm completely legless, inebriated.
Satiated.
You're killing me, I'm completely legless,
I'm out of my head.
Sneaky sparks sent neatly to the seat of your'so'selfishness bodiless.
And did your ever think you were anything more?
Well you won't for long, and not for good reasons.
Stop, rewind the tape - show trials, doctored paths,
pathetically-dressed halloween attempts.
Remember the damaged man who failed to recognise the face of his wife?
Well you won't for long, and not for good rewn any better;
to when you could have stayed awake.
Stop, rewind the tape - it's a fake!
Ceaseless praise creases rivers into eyes.
Bowed down around that gash you’re so pleased about.
Submission pose.
Prone to thrones misplaced blame erected out of bones.
Upselling your life for a soul,
and all of that hope will follow
into the gaping hole
it was switched for after the bait took.
The shakes long for good slaves to be.
Forever eighty-four.
Ceaseless praise creases rivers into eyes.
Your sexuality a one-way street, razored off.
Betrayed by the ones you love,
drugged up by that heavenly con job.
Upselling your life for a soul,
and all of the hope will follow
into the gaping hole
it was switched for after the bait took.
The shakes long for good slaves to be.
Consciousness beholds the garden in its various beauty.
It's natural.
But isn't it enough without having to believe
in fairies at the bottom of it too?
Would a shred of reasonable doubt kill you?
And I know it's tragic in a way,
that we've become aware of our own decay.
A cruel quirk of fate you might say,
but hardly germane.
Complexity could never be explained by merely postulating further complexity;
an infinite regress.
And how arrogant to assume
that you stand in the centre of a cosmos tailor made for you.
You're brand new!
And I know it's tragic in a way,
that we've become aware of our own decay;
but we're so uniquely alive.
Fear of the dark talks in tongues.
It speaks. It leaks into the streets.
It becomes mass-hysterical belief.
A mental disease.
Young blood
Stick it out
Face or palms to the sun
Run through the muck for you
Fill your bucket from the river
Oh love
Pick it up
I got your back and front and sides
These are the hands and minds of a giver
Ooh ooh ooh
Young blood
Ooh ooh ooh
Young Blood
She opened her arms
Her arms to the world
The world
Bent down to remind her
To open her ears
Her ears
To the sound
The sound of the song that would define her
She opened her eyes
Her eyes
To the gaze
Of the face of the stranger who helped her
No longer held captive
A captive
To the race
He erased the chains that compelled her
Young blood
Stick it out
Face or palms to the sun
Run through the muck for you
Fill your bucket from the river
Oh love
Pick it up
I got your back and front and sides
These are the hands and minds of a giver
Ooh ooh ooh
Young blood
Ooh ooh ooh
Young blood
She opened her arms
Her arms to the world
The world
Bent down to remind her
To open her ears
Her ears
To the sound
The sound of the song that would define her
She opened her eyes
Her eyes
To the gaze
Of the face of the stranger who helped her
No longer held captive
A captive
To the race
He erased the chains that compelled her
Young blood
Stick it out
Face or palms to the sun
Run through the muck for you
Fill your bucket from the river
Oh love
Pick it up
I got your back and front and sides
These are the hands and minds of a giver
Ooh ooh ooh
Young blood
Ooh ooh ooh
You're an island of a girl
A drift in a world with the rising tide
You know that the coming storm is going to be a crazy ride
With your alters made of trash
The aftermath of disposable dreams
You know you were born for more than what machines provide
I would write you a song that sounds like
A faded photograph of your favorite night
Just a little something to remember me by
You could sing along if you like it enough
Play it on your phone even though it sounds kind of rough
Just a little something to remember me by
You're an ocean of a girl
Surrounding a world with a blackening tide
You know that the coming storm is going to be a crazy tide
With your alters made of bones
The aftermath of disposable dreams
You know you were born for more than what dreams provide
I would write you a song that sounds like
A faded photograph of your favorite night
Just a little something to remember me by
You could sing along if you like it enough
Play it on your phone if you like it enough
Just a little something to remember me by
You could sing along if you like it enough
I want to get you in my skin
Shining like the ocean
Only then can I awake
And feel myself begin
I want to fight for my own strength
Cracking through the pavements
Bones of harmony
And fleshing running to see
My skeleton of stone
My heart of burning bone
My rapturous tone
My aching for home
My dancing on my tomb
My butterfly wings are sewn
My aching for home
If you want my spirit hold
Release me let me go
Only then can I awake
To wreck my own payroll
I want to the freedom to devour
Every precious hour
Like it is the only reason for what I'm feeling
My skeleton of stone
My heart of burning bone
My rapturous tone
My aching for home
My dancing on my tomb
My butterfly wings are sewn
My aching for home
I want to get you in my skin
Shining like the ocean
Only then can I awake
And feel myself begin
I want to fight for my own strength
Cracking through the pavements
Bones of harmony
And fleshing running to see
My skeleton of stone
My heart of burning bone
My rapturous tone
My aching for home
My dancing on my tomb
My butterfly wings are sewn