Alliierte!
I grasp the gasping collapse of a jackbooted train. The street is for sale, the street is for sale cried the wild anarchy rain. Cried the black, cried the red.
Forever fascism fits into the memory list of a nation. Of the nationals. I am green, the cracking glass limits my trodden pace. We are sad like passing seconds. I am stained. We yell from within the mouths of masters, the street is for sale, the street is for sale!
Can the barriers be broken? We are the barriers, we are broken. I am not here to die, though the wet ones are. The street is for sale, the street is for sale is the static sound of megaphones. Wielding water weapons in their sightless pursuit, and even the sun flees sometimes.
I cannot go home. Like a tunnel, I am stricken through. Like a séance, I am disconnected. Unhappy hoards face unhappy hoards. I am green, glass flies over my head and cracks. I am yelling. The street is for sale.
