The bell tower sings to the future of man..
A little boy runs.. runs closer to fame, into the arms of his brother nearby. Nearby the wall where his father once crawled, his father once crawled and his mother stood tall.
His only possession a tin full of bread. Bread that he took from a child.. a child given fame, the fame at a price..
the price... his life.
As the boy reached out in the relay of life, a bullet screamed deep - like the cut of a knife..
like a madman in lust - one frenzied bite.
A moment of nothing...
Then through the shadows nearby - filled with sweet dingy light - a purple a blue .. and a red..
The wall once more drew a collage of dead.
(c) cgs 1995.