ANOTHER SUNSET
The dying sun, red
and swollen, goes down
for the final time
in a blaze of glory.
A symphony of colour.
Orange, red, green and
violet dance across
the horizon, leaving a
last perfect skyline,
a sad goodbye to humanity.
Leaning over the
balcony gazing
at the illuminated
seascape, now devoid of
its once teeming life,
you wonder why you
decided to stay.

GIRL IN A MASK
Girl in a mask outside the tank factory,riveted steel rolling off the production floor,He loads the missle bay, she works in the animal labsmaking cosmetics safe for consumption. Walking homepast the gas-works, they know how lucky they are.In front of the wallscreen they sit and stare,it's telling them how happy they are, tellingthem to be proud of their country...Girl forgot her mask last Sunday,even overtime couldn't pay the hospital.In her condition she was lucky to make it to twenty.He agrees to donate her parts to the organbanks,she'd understand he needs the money.Boy in a mask lost his job at the factory, somethingto do with chemical weaponry, now he can't make the payments.The soup vans help but the gas-works said 'no vacancy' -so he sits outside and watches the tanks roll out of the factory.

RADIOACTIVE MAN
The aftermath of too many wars, the last man in europestumbles through the wreckage of somebody's life, somebody'shome, down the streets that used to ring with voices now silent.Thick vermillion skies hang heavy on his back. Through his veinscourses new blood. Underground bunker, last sanctuary of theruling body left to maintain law and order in a crisis...Civilservants sit at the nerve centre, monitoring the operation,can't believe their eyes when the man enters through a holehe made in a 15foot reinforced concrete wall. Reduces them to asheswith one fierce radioactive glance, then turns and heads towardhis next destination.

WE'RE LOOKING FOR PEOPLE
In the corner of a burnt-out building you sit with the bomb.Don't sleep now it's almost time. Outside snow begins to fallas the car turns the corner. A figure rushes into the streetclutching the deadly symbol of freedom, lets loose thedestruction made of desparation. The world explodes...You movein the shadow, the cold blue glow of a street in winter, throughthe snow to the house of the inner circle. You reach the door."Who is this?" - "The fugitive." Welcome. "This is just a beginning,"he says, but the rebels are betrayed...they die but hope lives on.

This website was originally produced by Southern Records in the 2000s. It has been reconstructed as part of http://theartofcrass.uk