We direct them
half dead men
who
walk at a funeral
pace
and the other men
I've seen them
riding shotgun on
the outside
at
the dark side
of the sun.

Then the credits rolled
at the folding up of night

These deep fissures which are eyes
prised open by the cracks in dawn
remind me that
half dead we're born into this life
of misery
which serves to trample me and
my day down.

But the Kingdom and the crown remain
God bless the Queen,
I've seen them
the other men
on a golden carriage
pulling guns to Woolwich

is nothing sacred anymore?

half dead men to procreate
the building of an
Empire,
state the obvious
how can this be?
we're all ****** in the end by misery.