Rev. Twitch

Rev. Twitch
2002-03-21 13:48:47 (UTC)

Winter

Mocketh me not
for I do not dally
in summers of rot
in the corpse of miss Sally
Me head it doth pop
with the means of awaiting
the steaming sweat shop
and the Nikes they're making
the world it doth writhe
with the soundings of greed
while children sit lythly
and ignore their need
paternal old men
in their golf clubs awaiting
their summers of death
and the harvest they're feeding




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