Dangerous, insanity, the only reality,
killers walking the streets,
damaged people with brutalised minds,
and lots of time,
and money to find,
in the darkened city streets,
after a war,
come the crimes, of greed and the mind,
dystopia,
in what used to be utopia,
a place where people do not care,
and where you are crazy if you go anywhere,
and there, death comes easily you will find,
in the city called Futura,
where they will if you dare,
step into the smoggy air, rob you blind.
Futura,
the city with the river and the rotting corpses carried inside,
the corpses of test subjects,
those with technological implants,
victims of slavery and suicide.
Futura, not one for the pure,
but only those with souls as dark as the night,
a place down upon which the stars,
cannot be bothered to shine,
a place where people spend most of their days in a haze,
and taking amphetamines,
and drinking copious beer and wine.
Futura,
2047,
killers on the streets,
and in the windows,
kids shoot the people outside,
with their guns,
and people hide in the shadows,
trying to save their lives,
as inside,
the mothers and fathers are numbed with implants,
and go to work,
and switch off their brains,
to numb the tediousness,
and repetition that kills every emotion,
and the boredom,
on the slave lines,
the slave lines of the factories,
where they slave to save,
on barely a wage,
hoping to leave on a spaceship,
and head to the sky,
hoping to head to the stars and beyond,
hoping for a new life,
but many they end up in the river,
victims of suicide,
endlessly floating by,
passed the city blocks,
and the modification shops,
as the children who are left behind,
develop killer eyes and minds to survive.