Ruse of the Fuse - 2015/11/17

Weapons ready,
They search for the kill.
Always hunting,
Unable to get their fill.

Dancing angels,
Filling the heads of pins.
Their propaganda,
Will soon fill all the bins.

Compass awry,
All directions are wrong.
Lies placate,
But they won't last long.

They had money,
Gave it all to very few.
No rallying cry,
Except to yell fuck you.

As the dust,
The wind will erase it.
As a story,
Survivors will spill it.

For a time,
You too can simply ignore.
The sickness,
That consumes this our whore.