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Post by Sarai Lee on Jul 10, 2014 15:49:32 GMT -5
They say god is dead;
Just the same
I never liked him anyway.
We’re peons you see
Shadow angels
With no snow
In the dirty rain.
Burnt blackened garbage
To keep warm.
Squatters’ halls and gangs
Graffiti churches
Our tribal signs
We understand that we’re goblins
In a labyrinth
full of twisted steel
Four-wheel drive monsters
and suited Lords,
High-tower corporate meccas
Beckon us to the center.
The warm light
Of treasured riches.
We’re no fools
There is a horned beast there
Ready to smash our bones
And eat our hearts.
Bloody banquet with organ pie,
We try to warn them
The lovely people.
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