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• Artiste: Caustic Soda
• Titre: Suburbist
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Suburbist lost his way many years into play, pounding a dead end route devoid of clarity. Suburbist lends his ear, but no one's ever here to help him turn another way. Time to let this one stew and find nothing new. Some scenes only rub more slat into your mood. Suburbist can only accept this drudgery, give up all ambitions and cry: "Sometimes this place has nothing left to offer. Sometimes I feel like I don't exist. I load it up and follow it through, then pick the shrapnel from my foot. My friends can try and analyse but when all is said and all is done - sometimes being here just isn't fun." The station's a good place to sit and make a face at the commuters as they board for the city. Suburbist won't fit there, where all he hears is foreign dialect and only some shades of grey. I find it hard just making sense, let alone trying to keep a clear head. Sit back, enjoy this way of life for all the beauty it denies.