We got this pact with the goddamn city government:
no one of us is to be rousted out of here unless someone fucking dies.
They allow us our pincushion heads, the slobbering, good steady alcohol,
but no one ever better well goddamn die.  You die, they come through with fire.
They cleanse the whole, they wipe out futures full of stupid desire, they
kill hope.
You finish building your shack one day, some cop comes and spits in your face:
'I taking all this back down to hell with me.'  You want to say 'fuck you',
but who to?

Some of us talk about Bosnia.  We going to fight the man.
The man who comes across some 3 yr old kid and pops it in the head.
We going to fight the man who fucks some 12 yr old whore with his bayonet.
We going to fight the man, fight the man, fight the man, fight yeah right:
no way.
That man going to go on about his death without no slowdown fight from us:
just give me a pint and some smokes, fuck the bread and the bed: 1 lousy coat,
and I drop into my hole for the night.  1 quart and he can fuck me himself.
1 thankew, 1 yessirmam, 1 nod and a smile and I come all over myself.

This here now is already the city of no hope.  This here now is a place
way past outside intervention.  We got no arms, we got no legs, no food, no rain
from heaven.  We only got this new lethal tuberculosis, we got hunger and drugs.
We got the aids.  We got blotches and scratches and pimples and boils.
We got dirty asses.  We got carts of junk and sweat-smelling jackets.
We got scowling faces and so we talk to ourself.  We are tired as hell
sleeping 20 minutes at a time.  We spit shit and smoke more.

Leo Obrst