Excerpt 1:
He tried rewriting the music on its own. Each riff he would play sounded like a cat in heat. It was God awful. Unaware of whyhe was so pissed off he picked up his guitar and assaulted it as he played. He was taking his frustrations out on what was supposed to be an inanimate object. He played it the way a kid would pick at their dinner plate with their fork when they didn't want to eat their vegetables. He played it the way a husband or wife would slam things around when they were upset with each other. He played it while he sulked, and that pissed him off even more. At least the music was finally starting to compliment the angry lyrics. It was full of attitude. He didn't know who specifically this song was directed at. It pretty much applied to everyone, especially those who were happier than he was...

Kristoph lifted the guitar off of his body and, bursting with projected rage and fury he repeatedly bashed the guitar against the drum riser, smashing it into what looked like a billion splintered fragments. He looked down at the mess and saw what had become of his life.

Excerpt 2:

He could not help but feel that this song was unknowingly his own prediction of things to come. It was everything he repressed and denied,but knew was true. It was all that frightened him as a child, and once again, as a creature of the eternal. When he had written the lyrics, they were merely thoughts, random thoughts, but after singing it again, these thoughts were more than a coincidence. The nightmare that left him gasping for breath, the car crash were he consumed the blood of his first local victim, the predictions of things to fall from the sky and the end of the world as everyone knew it, and the feeling of impending doom.

It was his fear of living in the future. It was also his fear of not being a part of it. Everything did look better with his eyes closed.