125 lines
6.7 KiB
Plaintext
125 lines
6.7 KiB
Plaintext
|
|
||
|
|
### ###
|
||
|
|
### ###
|
||
|
|
### #### ### ### ### ####
|
||
|
|
### ### ##### ### ###
|
||
|
|
### ### ### ### ###
|
||
|
|
### ### ##### ### ###
|
||
|
|
########## ### ### ##########
|
||
|
|
### ###
|
||
|
|
### ###
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Underground eXperts United
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Presents...
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
####### ## ## ####### # # #### ####### ## ##
|
||
|
|
## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## ##
|
||
|
|
#### ## ## #### # # ## ####### #######
|
||
|
|
## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ##
|
||
|
|
## ## ####### ####### # # ###### ####### ##
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
[ City Of Slaves ] [ By The GNN ]
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
____________________________________________________________________
|
||
|
|
____________________________________________________________________
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
"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
|
||
|
|
\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
Space Race.
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
||
|
|
uXu #194 Underground eXperts United 1994 uXu #194
|
||
|
|
Call DEMON ROACH UNDERGROUND -> +1-806-794-4362
|
||
|
|
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
|