The corruption follows death,
Do you want foots retro control?
I can’t feel goodness pushing,
How is this covenant?
What is the colour of treason?
Where is the reason sent?
What of the cushioning?
And who stole the solvency’s heartaching?
It is all that is left.
Bereft of veto,
I call to polished hordes,
The following of particulates,
Can cause some bordered realm,
A shot in the blanket of freedom,
Who is at the helm of sadness?
The people beratedly bay at the,
Lords of “Can it be”,
They say so.
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