milkunits
09-11-2008, 04:20 PM
The city is dead and it is you that all remains.... The living shall be hunted in this wicked city! Let us preview what we see in this field of your destiny!
Did you not have enough of dying once in the dead city and so returned once more among its cancerous wars illuminated at times by gangrenous hues of green? Do there still remain embers of the brave dreams of places and lips you believed beautiful? Do you refuse to accept that here love was imagining birds, digging up ruins?
It rains and rains, and the music is gloomy in these streets packed with the dead who wander about, the moribund who labor, the unburied cadavers who applaud and smile. Perhaps there still remains in this space of broken dreams, crushed dreams, another madman who still dreams and goes along repeating: "You nearly have the light, the light is near." But, now as before, only a cold and empty silence answers you, though there continues, festive and blind, the bustle of the perfectly orderly dead, the perfectly dead dead. You hear only the sour, metallic fall of another night like an immense, thick, black sheet of steel.
Stay tuned... we are cleaning the streets now in this wicked city! Breathing is a long since dream, come and live your nightmares for you are the only living. As Monty Phyton said it best "Bring out your DEAD"
Did you not have enough of dying once in the dead city and so returned once more among its cancerous wars illuminated at times by gangrenous hues of green? Do there still remain embers of the brave dreams of places and lips you believed beautiful? Do you refuse to accept that here love was imagining birds, digging up ruins?
It rains and rains, and the music is gloomy in these streets packed with the dead who wander about, the moribund who labor, the unburied cadavers who applaud and smile. Perhaps there still remains in this space of broken dreams, crushed dreams, another madman who still dreams and goes along repeating: "You nearly have the light, the light is near." But, now as before, only a cold and empty silence answers you, though there continues, festive and blind, the bustle of the perfectly orderly dead, the perfectly dead dead. You hear only the sour, metallic fall of another night like an immense, thick, black sheet of steel.
Stay tuned... we are cleaning the streets now in this wicked city! Breathing is a long since dream, come and live your nightmares for you are the only living. As Monty Phyton said it best "Bring out your DEAD"