This city doesn’t know what’s coming
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She doesn’t feel the heat
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This city won’t know what hit her
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What knocked her out into the streets
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This city’s thinking that it’s over
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And she’s already fast asleep
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So I’m breaking out of here tonight
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I am ready!
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We’re given only what we need
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Only the chance to survive
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And even then, it’s a coin toss
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A roll of the dice
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There’s gotta be something better
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Somewhere that feels more alive
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So I’m breaking out of here tonight
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I’m breaking out of here
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You’ve gotta feel it girl
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Feel the wind pick up
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It feels like something’s gonna change (Something's gotta change)
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But there’s no use putting it in drive
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If all the wheels are stuck
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There’s something wrong here (Something's wrong here)
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Like this whole city wants to scream
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But no one makes a sound
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But, you’ve got to feel it, baby (Something's wrong here)
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So I’m gonna find out what it is
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And I’m gonna tear it down
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Joe turned to a girl who’d been ignoring him all night, leaned in,
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and whispered in her ear
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The engine’s running, baby
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We don’t have time for goodbyes
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I know you can’t come with me
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I see that look in your eyes
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So kiss me fast
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Cause there’s no time to lose
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Leave the light on
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I’ll come back for you
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When everything is said and done
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I swear I’m gonna make it right
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I’m breaking out of here tonight
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I’m breaking out of here tonight
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I’m breaking out of here tonight
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I’m breaking out of here tonight
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Joe leaned in and stole a quick kiss from the girl. |
She smiled and made a move
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to slap him but he was already out of reach. |
He kicked the door open and tore
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out into the dark streets. |
Fire in his blood. |
He didn’t know exactly where he
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was going. |
Only that he was moving. |
And moving was something
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The slight breeze against his forehead meant that something was changing.
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He raised his voice, crying out against the quiet, constant hum of the city.
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From the windows high above the streets, a few concerned women called out to
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him to keep his voice down. |
For his own sake. |
For all their safety
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I’m so tired of giving up
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I am so tired of giving in
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You wake up knowing things should change
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Not knowing where to begin
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This city won’t say where she’s going
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She won’t speak of where she’s been
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So I’m breaking out of here tonight…
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Break out
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Without noticing where he was heading, he’d reached his home — or his former
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home — his mother’s house. |
She’d vanished three years ago. |
He hadn’t been back
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since. |
His father had been gone now for nearly ten. |
Heading around back,
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he made a straight line for a small workshop, set apart from the house
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His father’s motorbike was there. |
A relic. |
A gas engine bolted to an iron frame.
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He kicked the engine a few times and the bike roared to life. |
As he turned
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onto the street and opened the throttle — the sound of combustion savaging the
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silence of the night air — he could almost make out the sound of the collective
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gasp let out by the neighborhood. |
He could almost imagine window after window
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opening above the street line. |
Frightened face after frightened face leaning
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out into the bright glow of the streetlamps. |
Timid voice after timid voice
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telling him, speaking in unison
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A chorus of fear
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Ooh, don’t turn your back on the city
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Ooh, don’t turn your back on the city
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Ooh, don’t turn your back on the city
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Ooh, don’t turn your back on the city
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Joe ignored the voices. |
He thought perhaps he was the only one who hadn’t
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turned his back. |
He kicked the shifter
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Say a prayer for all the children still sleeping (Ooh, don’t turn your back on
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the city)
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3rd gear
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Say a prayer for all the fathers who still remember (Ooh, don’t turn your back
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on the city)
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4th
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Say a prayer for all the girls who’ve learned to stand up (Ooh, don’t turn your
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back on the city)
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5th
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Say a prayer for all the boys who won’t surrender
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Sometimes I just want to drive
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Until the streets run out
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I want to burn until there’s
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Nothing left to burn about
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This city’s waiting for a better day
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When I get back there will be hell to pay
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If I’m the only one left standing
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I will not be afraid to fight
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So I’m breaking out of here tonight |
I feel a fever coming on me
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Burning out of control
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And I hear nothing but the static (Nothing but the static)
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For years now there’s been nothing
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But the static on the radio
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If you can hear my voice outside these walls (If you can hear me)
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If you can hear me sending out this message tonight
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Then break the silence, send a signal back (If you can hear me)
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I’m coming, all I need is a little guiding light…
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…if you can hear me
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Don’t turn your back on the city
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If you can hear me
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Don’t turn your back on the city
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Then break the silence, send a signal back
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Don’t turn your back on the city
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Then break the silence, send a signal back
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I’m coming, all I need is a little guiding light
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Don’t turn your back on the city
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Don’t turn your back on the city
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I’m coming, all I need is a little guiding light
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If you can hear me
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If you can hear me
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If you can hear me
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Don’t turn your back on the city
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Store fronts gave way to warehouses
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Warehouses to abandoned factories
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Factories to the slums of the city
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He’d followed the line of the electric rail for almost an hour. |
The outskirts.
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A place to which men now rarely ventured. |
The dark streets flickered under
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failing street lamps. |
Away from the machines. |
Away from the people trying to
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keep him silent. |
He should be feeling free. |
He wasn’t. |
He was feeling something
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else. |
A wariness. |
A hesitation. |
Joe let off the throttle. |
As his father’s bike
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slowed to a crawl, he understood that feeling he’d had ever since he’d decided
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to leave the city. |
That hesitation he’d felt was the knowledge that he was
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being watched. |
Watched when he kissed the girl at the bar goodbye.
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Watched when he left his mother’s house. |
Watched even now… Miles from the
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heart of the city
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A face in the shadows…
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He stopped the bike in the middle of the street, silenced the engine,
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and lowered the kickstand. |
There was no traffic. |
No metal footsteps patrolling
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the streets. |
But the familiar sound of the telescreens reached even here.
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Joe stood watching the face on the screen. |
It babbled incessantly,
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but said nothing
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Over the sound of the screen, Joe heard footsteps, slow and deliberate,
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echoing from the darkness of the alleyway. |
Kneeling down, Joe placed one hand
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on the street beside him, the other reached for the knife in his boot.
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He recalled the stories the children of the city loved to repeat about the
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red-eyed assassin. |
«Light's Monster,» they called it. |
The footsteps emerged
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from the darkness of the alley and into the uneven glow of the flickering
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street lights. |
Joe stood, his hand loosening its grip on the knife
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It was a gray-haired man
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Joe was about to speak when the old man lifted a finger and pointed past him,
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into the darkness. |
Joe turned to see a single red light pulsing from the
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depths of the alleyway behind him |