Transmetropolitan

Transmetropolitan - War From a Harlots Mouth

The mechanical heart, it beats

Underneath this rainy sky

The machines produce more and

More

People without dreams, losers

Every day we encounter

Their letargic faces

The compulsion of their

Responsibilities

And the loss of their wishes

We flee, without chance

Eventually it will catch us

And we have to admit to ourselves

That there is no way out

Back to the grey of the streets

We fight ourselves through the

Masses

This city shall die with us

For a better life, a better

Tomorrow