monuments for tyrants, mass graves for the repressed. we've inherited a wasteland, a kingdom half-ablaze in ruins. from the margins, we choose to reject stasis, 'success' our failure: to accept defeat, to give up our ideals. we're foreigners in our own countries and we have nothing more to lose. fanning the embers of discontent, we'll write our own histories. call us what you will. and, carrying no flags, we, carrying out own niche, will throw back in your teeth all that you claim as truth.