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Perhaps the day is waning Maybe corpses in their graves are Wriggling With the worms And in turn Maybe gods are laughing I don't know, or care Perhaps they’re up on high Maybe they’re just high Giggling With their cronies And ambrosia Flows like rivers Perhaps it flows like rivers Through their fingers Perhaps their fingers are the rivers - They are gods after all And they smoke joints in the park And they get kebabs at 2 AM And they get kicked out of bars And they do it all again Until their words slur And they do it all again And whiskey runs like water And laughter runs like water This is a litany, a prayer A toast, blessing, laughter This is us giving a homeless person 10 bucks and our last tinnie Just because we can This is us waving at occupied taxi cabs and night buses This is us singing hallelujahs This is us making guns out of fingers This is us laughing at Those poor souls who are too embarrassed to laugh This is us wasted in a graveyard, saluting all the names Claiming that we’ll never die ‘Cos we’re gods here, we walk on and run on this town.
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Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 5:57 AM UTC
Urban Gods
Perhaps the day is waning Maybe corpses in their graves are Wriggling With the worms And in turn Maybe gods are laughing I don't know, or care Perhaps they’re up on high Maybe they’re just high Giggling With their cronies And ambrosia Flows like rivers Perhaps it flows like rivers Through their fingers Perhaps their fingers are the rivers - They are gods after all And they smoke joints in the park And they get kebabs at 2 AM And they get kicked out of bars And they do it all again Until their words slur And they do it all again And whiskey runs like water And laughter runs like water This is a litany, a prayer A toast, blessing, laughter This is us giving a homeless person 10 bucks and our last tinnie Just because we can This is us waving at occupied taxi cabs and night buses This is us singing hallelujahs This is us making guns out of fingers This is us laughing at Those poor souls who are too embarrassed to laugh This is us wasted in a graveyard, saluting all the names Claiming that we’ll never die ‘Cos we’re gods here, we walk on and run on this town.
el-bookish
Written by
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 5:57 AM UTC
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