Skyscrapers standing alone as old kings gazing their lost and empty lands. Their vast forest of marble breathes slowly while being hammered by heavy sinking sky.
They are still proudly wearing their cracked and peaked tiara, surrounded by twisted solid wool as wind screams around its despair. Hopeless, reigning emperors vomit out of their embrasures an everlasting flow of cold milk. 13.
Far below, lurking in tower thick shadows, are violently running white rivers, dragging in their flows our sons melting skuls. Desolation. Misery.
But beyond lands, hidden in some wasted abyss, is being prepared the revolution. It’s on its way, ready to wipe their kingdom out, roaring fury and revenge. Rock’n roll disappeared but electricity remains roaming high. At an impossible speed, disemboweling cloudy and low skies, we are going to silent them all.
Riot In Belgium/La Musique (JBag’s Boomboxed Re-Edit)
