Industrial smoke teems from every street and manhole– progress at the cost of progress

I see dead people and rapists, murderers and blasphemes and the corrupt, all in congress

There is only darkness, no bookstores or lovers of books, there is only the void and the residents of it

And then there’s I, this lone man in this island of eat, drink, shit, piss, fuck, and the beasts: presidents of it

This is no place for the learned, the artful, the literaries and those who write, paint, think, read

Nay, this place is a moneymaking machine where men loot and plunder, where men do by their creed

There are three parks in this city, and three thousand factories that make cloth and export quality sex toys

There are only a hundred thousand trees and four million people; half of them girls, half of them boys

There are two stores that sell video games, and only two cinemas that show movies, and mostly they’re local

There are no book clubs, book stores, no libraries, no appreciation for arts written, arts vocal

I’ll tell you what there is aplenty in this land where people have shit for brains and brains for shit

There are two hundred shopping malls, two million cars, and this one huge deep garbage dumping pit

Of those two million cars, one and a half million are driven by drivers who don’t have a license

The gutters under the city ,the traffic lights, the electricity lines, even the laws are in displicence

There are women who marry their cousins, sisters who manipulate their brothers

there are sons who kill their fathers for money, and for pleasure fuck their mothers

There are people with bullets and guns in possession and hatred in their hearts

There are people with no sense aesthetic, people blind, people oblivious of all arts

There are husbands who throw acid on their wives’ faces, kin who kill kin in the name of honor

Wait … did you just practice free speech and say something against the religion? Oops, you’re a goner

Faisalabad is the name of the city I tell this poorly written tale of, but I call it Fuckallabad

To think there’s good people here, you’d be mistaken, there are none. Fuck. All. Are. Bad.