Let loose the whip
and tighten the lip
with its reasons for humble cause.
And I'm alight in darkened entries
shrugging my shoulders to warm
my picked pockets with another's
Burning down the towered clouds
for the gas chamber streets,
why burn the bills
whilst flesh is still flamable?
And the crier rang out silently.
Could only make out the action,
of something she was trying desperately
the reasons of the destraction.
"You're too blind to make out colours
which have mixed to make brown.
Just a human illusion
of light under cover of sound."
The cobbles are disrupted
and yet its just another cup of tea
to watch on with, pathetically.