Breakout Division

We come from nowhere, very likely to stay. From grayness of the streets of a city equal to many others, that we never called home. We come from the futility of boredom, processed from a context that doesn’t belong to us, to which we don’t belong, but which gave us birth, and gave us a voice, a chance not to waste. To be heard, such that what happened to us doesn’t happen to the next on the list, such that anybody after us doesn’t have to deal with the world of today, the same that in the past already created our kind of generations. We never had a solid grounding onto which we could stand nor anything to grip; we felt the strain of days and years, we ran through the same roads and repeated the same acts for too long, we saw many people leave, and many things disappear. The only certainty remains precariousness, remains loneliness, things and people grown up among us, that never grew up with us, nor for us. Yet we’re still here, alone in a desperate embrace, clear in our transgression, chasing and endless dream, ready to clutch at the smallest glimmer of hope, at the words, at the acts, at everything we have that can make us go on. This is our music, our lyrics, our life, this is us, because we know that day is not so far, even if we’re tied here. Everything we need is anything we live for, a stage, some light, a microphone, to relieve a voice that otherwise would be muffled, a voice which the world is in need of, which the people are in need of, not to feel to useless, to remember that we can do something.