Julian Fane Our New Quarters
Two hundred years from now
everyone still alive
killing their neighbours just
for fresh water
screech siren psycho choirs
putting out wire fires
trust kin distrust the rest
don't put it on your chest
ships in the ocean roost
laser breath war machines
dropping their ordinance
peasant bred child marines
ten to a room and
tar paper windows up
chaos in numbers to room
left to lock us all up
