I know you want to think optimistically, but when there is nothing in the glass it's not half anything, its fucking empty. we try to build an order, only in some chosen borders. we try to build an order, we'll produce shells of mortar. we try to build an order, people go in rigid quarters. we try to build an order, a machine a people sorter. we try to build an order, a woman - nothing for her. we try to build an order, a black man working - nothing more. where do we live, what borders are ours. how do we live, alone or under powers. never could we stop, if shots were fired. turning would be treason. i am not a liar. just hope that i'm alive when i stop marching
