fauxcroft

Cyberpunks among the junk

Of sweaty neon lit streets,

Looking for a deal or two

That may help them eat,

In these days of little food

Life’s become like Soylent Green,

In these days everything

Seems to work mechanically,

And now were all slaves

To these greasy machines,

And life’s no longer a dream

Instead it’s now a nightmare,

It’s a sick dystopian scene

And cyberpunks are the anarchists,

Trying to bring the whole thing down

Searching for areas of weakness,

From which these heroes can mount

An attack on those who are in control,

That’s left us all with nowt.