A derebey (Turkish: valley lord) was a feudal lord in Anatolia and the Pontic areas of Lazistan and Acara in the 18th century, with considerable independence from the central government of the Ottoman Empire.
Derebeys were required to provide military assistance in time of war, but ruled and administered their own territories, in full freedom in practical terms, and often forming local dynasties. Their emergence were often sparked by the gradual abandon of the timar system administered by the military fiefdom of sipahis, and the tendency of the central government to sub-contract tax revenues as of the 18th century, receiving a determined sum from the derebey and outsourcing on them the task of collecting from the taxpayers themselves. In official terminology, these intermediaries were often to as âyân, although other terms were also used for describing this class whose official status, effective powers and the geographical extent of authority could greatly vary from one derebey to another, and could also evolve differently over time. The particular characteristics of their region of authority, such as economic development or its becoming an issue within contexts of international politics, also greatly influenced derebeys' destinies. While the derebeys did not seek to overthrow the Ottoman state, they did seek autonomy from the empire for themselves and their heirs. Through their collection and control of tax revenues in their region as well as only providing armed men for the sultan's wars when it benefitted their interests, the derebeys demonstrated a lack of centralized authority in the Ottoman state during the 18th and early 19th centuries.
I'm trying to walk up the stairs
My hands are snatchin' at the slivers of light
I'm stickin' to the steps
Each one a release
From the place below
I'm on a mission
On the hunt for clean
Clear vapour skies
'Cos I'm choking on my own
I need some air
The dark skies behind me
Begging you to scrape off, your disco paint
It's open to the night
And I'm sick as a hospital
And empty factories
You look so tiny, so very unimportant
I'm nearly there, and everything feels fine
Don't wanna look behind me
Don't wanna look beneath me
Every movement
Every vibration
Every movement
Every vibration
High above piss city
Watch the pigs-ear people
All dead in their drows
Some suffer in silence
Someone sparks
Some gorge sucking on silicone
I've got the urge to jump
Watch life whizz by
Fast foward flash
But hold on boy
I feel... alive
Don't wanna look behind me
Don't wanna look beneath me
Every movement
Every vibration
Every movement
Every vibration
Don't wanna look behind me
Don't wanna look beneath me
Every movement
Every vibration
Every movement
Every vibration
Don't wanna look behind me
Don't wanna look beneath me
Every movement
Every vibration
Every movement