In barefooted waste, scribes bend hand,
Draw lines on tender flesh and sand;
Crucified stock-market prophets,
Selling arid bone for profit --
But lady war is hard to brand,
So crows soon gather, scheme and plan
To scatter lies across this land,
Twist truth until it cannot fit
In barefooted waste!
With moral consequences tanned
Media diets fall to bland-
Some refuse to feast on such shit,
Named Godless heathen and misfit-
But if not us, who else will stand
In barefooted waste?









- bleh, eyes just dead tonight. All fixed now and thanks 

12 old applause
