Merry Go Round - 2012/06/10

It is rancid and disgusting
Every sense is screaming no
The mind is clearly against
Even as lust is ready to go

Logic is now the anachronism
Shunned by any who dare walk
Where even an army of angels
Fear to go and casually balk

Stenches wafting from the core
Make any observers want to gag
Amongst them are motherfuckers
Who know they got it in the bag

Masters of the known universe
Toying with forces of mystery
Who believe they shall outrun
The forces which make history

Swinging on the gallow ropes
Crows have come for the feast
For death is the only method
We have to pacify this beast

So experience the everlasting
Cycle by which we are defined
Asking yourselves one question
Is there any path out to find

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