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FREEDOMWAYS FIRST QUARTER 1972 The nights are filled with prostitutes, the bars with sailors and queers; a crossroads of the old sea-routes for bandits and buccaneers. Caves where dealers will sell to you morphine, cocaine, heroin too. Cabarets where ennui is changed by the very illusory compliments in a bottle of sparkling French champagne of whose effectiveness people are sure; it's really the finest happiness cure for syphilis of the sentiments. To penetrate, as with a knife, the future, and within it find a formula, some clear design to help one live his life. The holy rage of our bourgeoisie who, as they've always been before, are shocked by the misery that they see, but answer it with a slam of the door. That horrible blindness of the troops who always have their rifles trained on the man who dares to protest or complain when the bread's too hard or there's not much soup! V Charanga interrupts my words: John the Barber's song is heard. To get enough to eat you work 'til you're almost dead; to get enough to eat you work 'til you're almost dead: it's not just bending your back, but also bowing your head. From cane stalks comes the sugar to make my coffee sweet; from cane stalks comes the sugar to make my coffee sweet: 26
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Reopened for Editing 2024-02-16 13:26:10
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Reopened for Editing 2024-02-16 15:21:54