200 lost souls

The Faroe Islands massacre
A pod of two hundred souls
Whitesided dolphins magnificent
All slaughtered by the trolls
Their bodies split a’sunder
Their intestines all on view
Retards that is all they are
Stealing from the blue

Creation was miraculous
Intelligence as well
The pods unfortunatly past too close
To the faroe Islandsers hell
Beaten into submission
By the guiltless unenlightened
Who took a bunch of angels
And rapidly they frightened

Each and everyone of them
Disguised hidden and veiled
Incompetent and clumsy
All of them have failed
Muddle headed barmy
Possessed and so inane
Not a sage amongst them all
On humanity a drain

Its not as if they are starving
Their salmon farms awash
They are selling them to CHINA
So dont believe their tosh
Scheming plotting artful
Canny and urbane
Poaching all our angels
And causing them great pain

They live in complete harmony
Bloodless harmless souls
Unarmed and submissive
Each takes on their roles
Mentors to each other
All meaning no harm
Facing such hostility
When everyone is calm

The misery and wretchedness
The vile despondency
The scourge the plague inflicted
Swept into the sea
The pound of flesh
The rod of iron
The intolerance of man
Total persecution
Who the whole world should ban

Unconscious and insensitive
Stolid dullards they
Abuse their two hour training
To blow sweet souls away
These slow witted passionless
Each one a retard
Poker faced and unseeing
Just like blocks of lard

And so we see the suffering
The affliction and the pain
The agony the torture
Damnation again
The grief the utter sadness
200 souls are dead
Desolate and woeful
Putting bitterness to bed

Angst ridden and tormented
Downtrodden all the way
Victimized and sacrificed
All being made to pay
Martyrs in an inkling
Humiliated so
Offended vexed and broken
With no where they could go.

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