Fifteen Miles Up

There’s a town fifteen miles up the road Well more of a prison really “Since that is the direction I’m headed Perhaps give a fellow practitioner a friendly warning.” The town is run by a magician A magician with the dreams of a city A slave population to build it So he swept up the radius, cooked up their souls down to ash… turned them into ants An inhumane endeavour, thinking became illegal “But you’re still here!?” Yes, indeed I am.