The middle of the dream
The curtain hiding the facts on the screen.
Blazed in the battle
Scored for the few alive on the screen.
Stunts comprise my iris
Fear completes the sky on the screen.
Rocks crash on pillars
They smile through wood teeth on the screen.
This is the beginning of hearsay and the fountain of gossip
They pray to the money and prey on the green.
Parade for the epitaphs guarding the windmills
Demonstrate factors that destroy never ending circles.
Change it up, the curtains pull facets into circulation
This is the underscore to their overwhelming bias
Two days into the abduction of rising gas prices
Things start to blend together into an effigy
But those mockeries of debauchery play their cards loose
Enough so that it comes as a surprise for a noose
To hang such serpents when they can just slither away
What a poor day to pry open wounds that have rotten
The pride caught a murder and they asked for their eyes back
Yet that isn’t the solution so they all remain intact.
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