Monday, July 30, 2012

archaic demon

hast thou thy peepers ready and yet
shalt we rest under the hot sun and set.
but down didst not bring thou that clown
that is next in line for the golden crown.
fulfilled and fat, wearing the nicest hat,
we long to get more of this and that.
alas, they've thrown us on the shore
to die as miserable as ever we were.

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