Up with the Sunrise

From the right side

Lanterns, torches, and cigarettes

From the other side white

Burning scars and black lungs

And our islands of waste

Are just nutrients

Lost locked underground.

Light breaks coke

Cracking towers

And the haze of smoke stacks.

Up with the sunrise

Where you and I reside

Is paved by lies

And walls in the ways

Of the distant burning day

In the call to all tribes.

Stay, this is tomorrow

The future is slick

And unwritten

The past is dead

But for burning scars

In a sky of sultry dust

Blown to proportion

And perceived so far.

Light the oil fields

Monkey wrench the cogs

We are islands of garbage

Ablaze to the stars,

Blind to the ages

And looking through a keyhole

Into the bathroom of immortality.

Wake up, my sleepless night

Wrestling with cotton

Slavery of insomnia,

Tied to rest

Stand and get dressed.

– Michaël Veremans

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