what a land of stones and sticks

could say its schemes rhymes with Styx

from bridges high, their evil spurts

over highways onto windscreen, splattered with

shoulders pulled out, arms fractured and red smears

put her down to mute the screech of pain

an old lady can't bear all that along with high blood



a saintly man held high is hardly dead

and **** starts coming down in chunks

must get out, must get out, while I can

it's all unravelling in a bad way