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January 2005 / Volume VI / Issue I | |||||||||
Kristine Ong Muslim Road Crew Riding for eighteen hours Across monotonous sceneries of asphalt, Fog, glass, and one-dimensional tenements Growing out of the earth Like stolid appendages, We kill time to understand the world. The highways are eternal, restless In their attempts to understand Our journey. We roll on for miles and miles Burning dust on our trail. __The destination is never the same: The primal energy, the raw hunger A stadium welling up with lacerating love And welcoming chaos, Shouts and guitar riffs searing the soul.__ The frontman is gloriously OD-ing inside the bathroom. __There is a void and one of us Has to walk Through it.__ The restless crowd surge outside As the empty skies Bleed overhead. __No one must know That this is only a dream.__ The soundcheck is through. |
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RETURN to JANUARY 2005 |