Poem —

To solve the contradictions, our dear founding fathers

laid before our beloved

We need to form the correct frequency

of Codeine Fire Waves

They kill the resisting black-fellas,

shooting their tongues off in

a wild maelstrom of bullets and muffled screams.

Mother superior is here to claim you for your own good

dear little children, no need to chase the fence!

Form the little bastards up from birth

with early routines and gunpoint rituals

Bellow the streets go to

the high-rise pollution towers onto Montgomery street

Leave the elders to understand

the ways of land once theirs,

in a dead city of horror folk

Oh to be moral and mortal!

We still have you by the hair

Oh to be young and Immoral!

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