why weeps the brogan?
i exist as a fact you were enslaved as my muse now we don't see eye to eye i stole the truth from natures liquid haystack wrestled it deep inside the crust of my chest sorry can't give it back today, its root hair bounds me, has refused to give up on me it professed to my zealous heart's throb and also to an undying fighting spirit it continuously tickle my fancy not to worry there will be plenty to go round once it begins to sprout.
economic cancer of the bone
When the heart beats turmoil men become dead instincts animals dressed in polyester skin regardless of their mother tongue they pounce on warm blooded reeds ready to devour their fleshly twilight you were meant to nurture these sweetened daffodils old enough to have strolled out your loin not chain their virtue to the vent in your ugly cold room.
there is hunger in the land
wayward politicians are pointing accusing fingers there are mouths agape ready to devour justice they no longer care if it still remains the common mans last resort my inside growls in anger warning me in advance of an imminent outburst rage fills up its spiked moist tentacles that has ripped up my entire visceral to shreds i scream...locked up in a feudal position i demand a compilation of all our looted funds my vertebral column strikes my flesh from within "let me out, am sick and tired of this colorless cistern it's has being cursed from within the embers of a caustic tongue."
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