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Sep 2020
Colorless smithereens birth
in the factories of fears
in dulcet irony appraise their bequests
the glittering basin of woes
gened inherently from fathers to sons
mothers to daughters alike
breezing in vapid happenstance cages
the soiled minds supreme
yodeling gaslight from their gas chambers
narrow one track minded
polluted souls in contaminated schooling
professors of life's negativity
bequeathing their Antonyms inheritances
so for whom the bells toll
they project gened inadequacies and frustrations
in picture postcards from their hell
the ****** damning
offering free pass to their dungeons of Pathetic Souls Ascension
Make his fight on the hill in the early day
Constant chill deep inside
Shouting gun, on they run through the endless grey
On the fight, for they are right, yes, by who's to say?
For a hill men would ****, why? They do not know
Stiffened wounds test there their pride
Men of five, still alive through the raging glow
Gone insane from the pain that they surely know
For whom the bell tolls
Time marches on
For whom the bell tolls

BY  Metallica
Yenson
Written by
Yenson  M/London
(M/London)   
61
   Ken Pepiton
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