Snatch - 2011/02/03

A deep rumble fills our ears
As the sky turns pitch black
Soggy ground begins to quake
As the guilt begins to stack
Above bits of anger rain down
Even before the sky opened up
Spawning cries of sycophants
Lacking love to fill the cup

Mechanical eyes just onlookers
Voyeurs perched with eyes wide
Recording screams of the dying
Urging dead to retreat inside
Judgment abundant now reserved
As moving mouths remain still
Blood lost is of small concern
Unless some of theirs we spill

Words of a serpent poison they
Who dare believe in face value
While the selfish fear a future
Which is born of this our coup
Spread the word this is choice
Destiny lost now close at hand
As the downtrodden so transform
A poor indentured desolate land

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