(no subject)

[fandaal]

Our own correspondence is sorry to tell, of an uneasy time that all is not well. On the borders, there's movement, in the hills, there's trouble, food is short, crime is double. Prices have risen since the government fell, casualities increase as the enemy shell, the climate's unhealthy, flies and rats thrive, and sooner than letter the end will arrive. This is your correspondence, running out of tape, gunfire's increasing, lootinh, burning, rape.

Wire, Reuters (1977)