They were barbarians. Lived to fight. A bizarre lifestyle. But they had style, the guys designed their cardigans and their shoes were superb. Like prancing horses come saturday night. Then to celebrate the new tribal feathers they'd go to the local watering hole and half kill anyone who didn't drink for a living. A state of mind that was difficult to understand. They were rebelling against the pointless existence society had mapped out for them. Get a job in the factories, marry, multiply, grow old and die. They wanted more but had no idea how to get it.
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