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SøulS Øf Clåy

Oh damn, they went and did it again.

It seems that going to war is

America's greatest trend.

When does it end?

Where do we send our war machine.

The crimson of blood turns green.

They convene in a private, secluded


The Bohemian Grove...

The American dream.

Look at the treasure trove

in the Vatican... gleam.

Gettin' our news from a meme.

Caught in between reality and A.I.

Feed them to the machine.

Line them up to die.

Dont ask me why we're fighting,

We've got everything we need.

We're in the eye of a hurricane,

Surrounded by greed.

A bead of sweat drips down his cheek,

and then goes dry.

Just a feeble old man, caught up

in an ancient lie.

They baptize with blood.

Drink the tears that you cry.

Then convince you that God's

on your side.

The path to hell is wide, and there

are trillions that have traveled it.

Why do they take pride in building

what lowers them into the pit?

Life's a roller coaster ride. Let me

off or I'm going to vomit.

How many politicians should we

probably commit.

I'm so sick of this shit, and the constant

lies they try to get us to swallow.

You can go to war, but I refuse

to fukkin' follow.

Tomorrow is another day, unless we

blow it all away.

My bones are filled with marrow...

Their souls are made of clay.

I'm like Bam Bam Flintstone with a

Savage grin.

I'm at war with with those that

keep committing more of this sin.

I'll say it again,

We're caught somewhere in between...

Reality and this 'new normal' scene.

From the Queen, to the privatized

corporate fiends.

We're dieing in droves...

They live like royalty.

Look out below, another trickle

down scheme.

How many missiles do they need?

No good deed goes unpunished...

More victims of the lie.

Don't ask me why these people keep

bleeding for the all seeing eye.

You can't deny that these people are

evil, look who they glorify.

Other liars always make a good alibi.

A bead of blood drips down his

thigh, as the child starts to cry.

Keep the secret if you can,

Even if the authorities pry.

Adrenalized blood...

Hundreds of thousands die.

They're imposters and wolves

that professionally lie.

They're after war and genocide.

Euthanasia in a needle prick.

I want off this fukkin' ride,

these politicians make me sick.

Where's my board, I'll ride the tide

when tidal waves become


of psychopathic tyrants like

these ones that we did not select.

Reflect on this a little bit,

They're words are dead and hollow.

Two hundred and fifty years of war,

How much more can we allow?

Tomorrow may just go astray,

if they blow it all away.

Listen to these words I say,

You may just live another day.

Pretending everything's o.k.

will only lead to more dismay.

Our bones are filled with marrow...

Their souls are made of clay.

Written by: Michael W. Taylor

April 16th. 2022 ©

19 Nisan 2022 04:07:13 0 Rapor Yerleştirmek Hikayeyi takip edin
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