what doesn't die
first in last out overthrown, it's been picked clean to the bone, and so hard to remember things, like when we used to kill our kings, crusading for hypocrisy, under our nose the holy bleed, crumbling under its own weight, apologies if you relate, 'cause, you cannot kill, what doesn't die, live up to my promise, my full potential realized, death lives right inside your pocket, take him out and have a laugh, go and piss your life away, another ugly waste of clay, and up above there's no one home, why don't you answer your phone?, reminding me to learn that poem, first in last out overthrown, because, a stream of consciousness flows into a river of blood, stem this tide of violence, as it rises like a flood
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