Friday, April 18, 2014


"Number 11811 get back to machine and forget that you ever left it."

We build comforts out of unseen misery,
We who are rich, by every standard of the poor,
And yet we give the power that we might use,
To help our brothers, to the richer still,
Who build the jails around us while we sleep,
What I could do, I do not,
Where I would, I fail,
Forgive me my brothers of the depths,
That having risen up, I fell,
Rather than raise you in my stead.

(On watching the restored Metropolis).

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