- Joined
- Aug 13, 2021
- Messages
- 279
- Thread Author
- #1
- Hello there, Citizen. -
May I hide myself here?
From the old world city of Geneva I come, with eight rifles in my hand.
- These I have stolen, from the occupant who seeks our demise. -
- No, no... Anti-Citizen. A malignant you are. -
Go somewhere else. They'll amputate me straight away, if they knew you were here.
I want to work my shifts and live my life, in peace and quiet.
- And these rifles of yours, won't make my ration count grow. -
- But tell me then, who owns the land upon which you live? -
Your back and bones you break, as you toil for naught but despair.
When the occupants Inspectors take what you produce? Is that what makes you safe?
Your family is relocated, maybe dead. And the children you wanted, those will never come to be.
- Barely worth a grain of rice, those supplements they give you have - your belly thin as it is. -
- No, there is not much to relieve us from our misery. -
When the Inspector takes his tax and the officer of the Law grants us beating for their own entertainment.
- But you - terrorist. That keeps on shooting and struggling. How exactly do you relieve me of my burden? -
- I'm fighting for your right to keep what you sow. -
I struggle against the tyrant that dictates your day.
In the urban districts scattered across the globe, I have learned this.
We must fight together to satisfy our hunger.
Do you remember in our past, how the imperialists had names such as us?
When we had thrown off our shackles, the people had their liberty.
For decades, we could sow and harvest our land in peace.
Now the masters have returned, in a different form and stolen it from us.
With violence and hatred they came to enslave us.
Betrayed by our own, we surrendered. Now we bow before Breen and his Quislings.
So tell me, do you want your future to be bright and with family?
Then you must learn how to seperate friend from foe.
And you can see for yourself who your enemy is,
- So now, grab a rifle and join the Front! -
- Although you come from somewhere distant, -
You seem to know me quite well.
And I surely do want to fight against being a slave.
But our Occupant have bombs and the Quislings have ears and spies.
- Against such an enemy, surely we cannot stand? -
- Their weapons are modern and the sky carries their Synths, -
But we have the people behind our rifles.
And everywhere we fight, victory is achieved,
- For deep inside, our enemy is naught but a tiger made of paper. -
- You have given me hope, what you are saying Anti-Citizen. -
Or perhaps I should call you what you truly are, a fighter of freedom.
Perhaps we can finally gain our freedom.
Come inside, my Friend! You may hide in here!
- And teach us Citizens how to handle a rifle! -
May I hide myself here?
From the old world city of Geneva I come, with eight rifles in my hand.
- These I have stolen, from the occupant who seeks our demise. -
- No, no... Anti-Citizen. A malignant you are. -
Go somewhere else. They'll amputate me straight away, if they knew you were here.
I want to work my shifts and live my life, in peace and quiet.
- And these rifles of yours, won't make my ration count grow. -
- But tell me then, who owns the land upon which you live? -
Your back and bones you break, as you toil for naught but despair.
When the occupants Inspectors take what you produce? Is that what makes you safe?
Your family is relocated, maybe dead. And the children you wanted, those will never come to be.
- Barely worth a grain of rice, those supplements they give you have - your belly thin as it is. -
- No, there is not much to relieve us from our misery. -
When the Inspector takes his tax and the officer of the Law grants us beating for their own entertainment.
- But you - terrorist. That keeps on shooting and struggling. How exactly do you relieve me of my burden? -
- I'm fighting for your right to keep what you sow. -
I struggle against the tyrant that dictates your day.
In the urban districts scattered across the globe, I have learned this.
We must fight together to satisfy our hunger.
Do you remember in our past, how the imperialists had names such as us?
When we had thrown off our shackles, the people had their liberty.
For decades, we could sow and harvest our land in peace.
Now the masters have returned, in a different form and stolen it from us.
With violence and hatred they came to enslave us.
Betrayed by our own, we surrendered. Now we bow before Breen and his Quislings.
So tell me, do you want your future to be bright and with family?
Then you must learn how to seperate friend from foe.
And you can see for yourself who your enemy is,
- So now, grab a rifle and join the Front! -
- Although you come from somewhere distant, -
You seem to know me quite well.
And I surely do want to fight against being a slave.
But our Occupant have bombs and the Quislings have ears and spies.
- Against such an enemy, surely we cannot stand? -
- Their weapons are modern and the sky carries their Synths, -
But we have the people behind our rifles.
And everywhere we fight, victory is achieved,
- For deep inside, our enemy is naught but a tiger made of paper. -
- You have given me hope, what you are saying Anti-Citizen. -
Or perhaps I should call you what you truly are, a fighter of freedom.
Perhaps we can finally gain our freedom.
Come inside, my Friend! You may hide in here!
- And teach us Citizens how to handle a rifle! -
Last edited:
