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Derni re Voix La The City Without Windows
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THE CITY WITHOUT WINDOWS |
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One day, all the windows in the city |
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Then the rain started. |
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No matter what we tried to do, no matter how |
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the water would get through. |
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Our ceilings passively welcomed the constant |
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our wood slowly rotted in submission |
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No amount of technology, or human effort |
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...to what was just meant to be... |
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We were the city without windows... |
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Nothing we could do about it. |
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The water infected everything... |
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Wood turned porous, |
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allowing the liquid to seep into our houses, |
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metal corroded until it became |
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Disease spread, our bodies forced to |
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...that slowly paralyzed our vocal chords. |
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Paper dissolved to pulp under the merciless |
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anything electric having shorted out and |
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Communication became a new challenge to |
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Everything we knew had to be re-invented. |
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Flesh became our only trustworthy mode of |
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Ironically, our bodies suddenly became useful |
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Our skin could hold messages, |
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secrets carved into permanent scars that |
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infecting themselves into all too vulnerable |
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...after it was cut into. |
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Strangely, we had become honest again. |
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We couldn't re-trace our steps and |
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Every word had to be well thought out, |
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for the healing time of a mistake would be |
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Dishonesty had become a long desired luxury. |
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Communication transformed into religion, |
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dictated by whose flesh would read easier |
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Racial politics turned to practically, |
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submission was a fine acceptance on the part |
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Social structure had to be dictated by the |
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Sacrifice at last, became a sacred ceremony. |
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To be the purveyor of language, |
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A submissive to communication was enough |
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Life was surgical truth. |
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You should suffer for truth. |
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I LOVED YOU |
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As for me, I'm the last one who the disease |
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I know it won't last. |
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Everyone knows it. |
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Even now as I speak these words, I can sense |
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Each phrase gets harder |
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Soon like all the rest, I will have to |
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...to brief notes that weep red. |
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We are nearing the end, |
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when everything will be drowned by endless |
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Soon it won't even matter who scarred their |
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These futile attemps at intimacy... |
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...will just dissolve away into the night. |
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We were the city without windows. |
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And this might be the last vocal recording... |
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...from our world. |
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Ripped by Smoyl |
