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May 2020
A wind like razors in a blackened night
Walls of air, blades of light on feeble shadows
A taunting wind scars a hunter’s moon
a song of death and disease
Love like famine, streets filled with bodies
walls of bones like catacombs
Rains of ash burn on wet cheeks
The wind catcalls and the shadows vanish
The stained smell of sulfur and smoke
A midnight sunrise on the horizon
Warriors charge forth with glowing eyes
Teeth like fangs, looting their own tombs
Faces of gold melted to blanks
Traitors to their own names
Sold out and surrendered for a generation
Faithless and furried loveless and shamed
They march for a calling, they fall on deaf beliefs
For centuries they cried in the darkness, alone
Tear apart their clothes, their children are all dead!
Left to rot beneath the old and rich
Now only the rich are old, and the young bleed
The streets run black and blue with broken promises
Mother Nature turned savage with envy
Had to remind us *******
We cannot howl like wolves, roar like lions
We are weak and feeble, no claws or fur
Foolish insects without the shell
The true prey, the final ****
Kyle Dal Santo
Written by
Kyle Dal Santo  M/Los Angeles-Chicago
(M/Los Angeles-Chicago)   
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