Tuesday, 9 February 2010

Those Last Seconds

My questions are never asked
My mind not spoken for
Lies leak out of a box
Mesmerized sheep nod along
Sex takes over truth
Death floats down from above
While ovals turn into cubes
Powerless preachers stop and stare
The smart cheer as they create tombs
Have we not moved on?
Are you pleased with your decisions?
I guess I’ll just cremate instead

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