Satan behind me who had wined
and then dined me on visions of
empires, the outtakes of inferno
and he said,
'will you go to make me a fortune?'
Soon,
when the wind turned red and fields into mud,
and those left drew breath and those that could stand,
stood,
Satan clapped his hands and danced a merry jig and
this pig in a poke understood the joke told,
the dead don't get old,
'lest we forget'
it's the living that do
remembering
the few.