In the Bazaar
In the bazaar
Works and willful stacks of gold.
I grant thee one reticent
Knod, just for show.
There is no real fauna
In our new world.order,
We whet our fangs
And fight for the final time.
In glaciers cool but melting,
I greet the gods of Greenland mourning.
In glaciers hot and freezing
We leave the demons plotting.
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