This didn't show up for some reason, publicized it now.

[wereallignorant]

People try to fight the monster. This monster that is our country. They fight in the streets with guitars and guns and gasoline. People use every weapon they have, gather there bullets and strings, march in the cracked streets and are mowed down. Shot by their own children, sent to war, these children. These children know not who they are anymore. They see only in red. The children who did not go resist, they fight, using teeth and nail. The people gather for one last fight, one last attempt to right the wrongs they once readily jeered for. The soldiers, the ex-children, are far better armed and well trained, but the people live here. The people know this jungle, this urban jungle, and they will fight and die for it. Both sides know that the other will not give in till every last on is dead, man, child and women. Blood runs in the street. A mother and her ex-child have died in each others arms. A man's face has been ripped to shreds by shrapnel. Who won? Does it matter? The jungle is burned, burned forever.

Better to die on your feet than live on your knees.