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- [ City Of Slaves ] [ By The GNN ]
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- ____________________________________________________________________
- ____________________________________________________________________
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-
- "CITY OF SLAVES"
- by THE GNN/DualCrew-Shining/uXu
-
-
- "Bar the door. Bar the door.
- The door is barred.
- We are safe. We are safe.
- The enemy rage outside, he will tire"
- (T.S Eliot)
-
-
-
- The morning sun places a thin film of sweat on my face. Naked streets,
- trash and dead people with no dreams left. Sounds, hard facts and reality
- everywhere. The crowded streets with myself in the middle. A forgotten
- existence, running and walking through the city of neon and concrete. A
- bartender serves whiskey with ice, amazed by my fresh voice. Drinking up
- all my money that I borrow every time..
- Ain't got the blues, ain't got the courage to leave the scene. The smell
- of gasoline fills my soaked brain. I am a pilot of a plane who has lost
- the sense of direction. I fly and fly without a clue to where I am going. A
- new day is nothing more than the morning sun and the evening breeze.
- I want the life. My story of life is about the little one. Grey
- buildings rule the city, looking around for more power. I sleep by the
- black river under the moon, I live in the power of the city, waiting for
- the lightning man to strike.
- Fresh. Clean. Not contaminated like the other slaves of the city. Free
- to live. Not caught in the machinery where everybody who leaves need to be
- replaced with violence.
- Born in the seventies. Crushed in the nineties. Street-smart and old
- now. Opened up a bottle of champagne when the new century became visible,
- drank it and began to write. Bought a type writer, stole a couple of
- papers.
- Sitting by the river, writing the story of my life. My hands are typing
- fast - I still remember how to do it properly. Finish one page at the
- time, pulling it out and dropping it into the black river. See it float
- away and start with a new paper. It is always the same. Saw the last
- piece of paper float away a couple of years ago. The story of my life was
- to an end. I threw the typewriter into the river. The black water
- swallowed it with a dull sound. A few dark waves said good bye and left me
- alone.
- The wood to my coffin is the strong liquid, the nails are the cigarettes
- from the downtown shop. Toxic air, dead eyes, black sun glasses on blue
- robots who protect the slaves. A youth throw out some junk from a red
- chevrolet. I walk fast, but not too fast, to the garbage, picking it up,
- eating what can be eaten. Found a broken clock, a symbol for the
- exterminated time. Gives it to a friend for a dollar, buys something to
- drink. Feels death come back, disguised as life.
- Look at the drunk, they say. Look at his worn out clothes, his broken
- shoes. He has no knowledge, he is not educated. He is trash, he is
- nothing. I am a loser and they are the servants of the city. I prefer to
- be a drunk. I cannot do anything else. But I am educated. I know more
- than most people do, despite of my dirty shell.
- The blue sky has turned grey thanks to the thousands of chimneys that
- keeps on pumping out smoke as if they tried to race against each other.
- The slaves of the city race against each other in a desperate attempt to
- reach the highest position. They all want to make it. Make it to the house
- of the Gods. The house of the Gods are inhabited by the leaders of the
- city. Whatever they become, whatever they do, whatever they believe that
- they are, whatever they decide to do, everybody will soon die and never
- return to the city. Fire and forget while you got the chance, take what you
- can take. Eat the poor, kill the weak and race against the clock. Become a
- well oiled part of the machinery, thrust your kick out and praise your own
- slavery. Never look at any mirrors.
- The no mans land is my home. Here, I can walk around and look the the
- other people, who never sees me nor listens to my voice. The truth is
- dangerous, better stay away from the truth. Better look away and face the
- twisted facts. The reality is good as long as the reality is a cabaret for
- the controlled masses, the slaves.
- I am not a slave and a servant of the city. I am free but still trapped.
- My prison is my life. They took it away from me. Robots on a mission
- broke down my door, stole my computer, told me to fuck off and leave the
- nets alone. I wanted to know everything, how the world worked. That was
- not allowed at all, they said, and the slaves nodded to show the Gods that
- they fully agreed. I lost my machine, my friends and my job. I lost my
- home and was thrown out on the streets.
- The night will soon be over. A new day will come and give me another
- chance. I cannot hack any more, I can only dream about the past. I will
- never become a part of the city, I know too much about the real world. The
- blue robots will keep me away from the ordinary people forever.
- The sun arises from the polluted horizon and places once again a thin
- film of sweat on my face.
-
-
-
- //////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
- This weekend: seventeen nicks killed in a netsplit homicide!
- Now THE STASH! +46-13-CALL-OR-DIE-M.F
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-
- Space Race.
-
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- uXu #194 Underground eXperts United 1994 uXu #194
- Call DEMON ROACH UNDERGROUND -> +1-806-794-4362
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