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The quiet of the night is broken by the cackle of that cylinder in her hand, and with the pass of an arm, it's plastered there. Both to inspire, and to offend. A porchlight cuts through the dark two or three houses down. She hears the pig's sirens from way across town. Echo, the soles of her shoes slap the empty street and she's off to the safety of friends. When there is such a desperate need, such a desperate need for change, a vandal and an activist can be one in the same. We don't have the time to wait for progress to be brought by a politician. If we don't take the stand, then who's to blame? Bottle shatters on the hood of a squad car. On his face, he can feel the flame. And he can feel the warmth in his heart from the others that felt the same. And the chaos is still for a moment, the combat zone in the streets seems a far-away place, but then the storm came rushing back, for him, it is the war that never ends. Everyone looks up to the sky. Silence comes over the crowd. They've been marching and singing together all day, the chants they're still ringing loud. Scarves, hoods and masks all discarded, huddled together to witness the sight. On top of that pole, flames replaced the greatest fucking lie. When there is such a desperate need, such a desperate need for change, a vandal and an activist become one in the same. We don't have the time to wait for progress to be brought by those greedy bastards. If we don't fuck it up, then we're to blame.

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Waiting Records Lima, Peru

Sello discográfico de Lima, Perú, orientado a la producción y difusión de música realizada por cantautores indie folk acoustic & más.

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