The margins on fur coats
\nare clearly astronomical
\nbuilt into a profit base
\nthat’s pathological
\nwhere men of the lower order
\ncarry on their trade
\nfrom the dank and darkly places
\nwhere souls are stripped and laid
\nwaste in those satanic mills
\nbeyond the light of day
\nfestooned with myriad spiders webs
\nwhere filth and where decay
\nare part of the emotion
\nthe evil that is there
\nman kills off all devotion
\nand makes his charges pay<\/p>\n
its hardly life for all of them
\nthe squalor all around
\ncages drenched in urine
\nin all of it we’re drowned
\nhow can this be logical
\nwhy do they sink so low
\nthe margins clearly account for much
\nso what is there to show
\nthe ugliness of humans
\nwho take a rich resource
\nand parody its being
\nthey take a soul and force
\na change to its circumstances
\nas vile as any known
\nand all of this is meant
\nto be worthy of being shown<\/p>\n
the air there who would choose
\nto breathe such stale and foetid smoke
\nrank with languid lifelessness
\nin such a world they soak
\ntheir skins are all important
\ntheir flesh as weak as hell
\ntheir minds are entering crazy stage
\na stage that we know well
\nbar biting rolling heads about
\nsuperficially
\nas sane as any city dweller
\npaying to be free<\/p>\n
but here encased in boredom
\nwild souls that like to roam
\nhere the prison holds them
\nwhilst they dream of their far home
\na sanity afore thought
\nan expression of the time
\nthe silence and regression
\nrelived as they mime
\nevery point of contact
\nin their hearts they see
\nwhilst absorbing all this evil
\nnow upon them seemingly<\/p>\n
the hindrance of location
\nhampering their sight
\nan impediment to all they knew
\nan ever growing blight
\nand the laggards in attendance
\nbrutal bastards who
\ntorture and impoverish
\nthe whole damn maligned crew
\nfeel doomed and so afflicted
\nby the perils that they bring
\ninto each scenario when some of us they fling<\/p>\n
around the cage around the room
\ntheir anger without cause
\nlike thunder through our tunnels
\nwe feel that we must pause
\nand hear our own hearts beating
\nour own breath intermittent
\nwe don’t feel like competing
\nit just feels abirritant<\/p>\n
causation unintelligible
\nthe quagmire clearly here
\nwe are so frustrated
\nwe are soaked in fear
\nwe know death is arriving soon
\nwe know we feel and we
\nare masters of resentment
\nleft without a plea<\/p>\n
the margins were colossal
\nfor the upper echelon
\nfor us down in the darkness
\neverything is gone
\nfood even the water
\nof life is seldom here
\nlight these common freedoms
\nthese qualities we hold dear
\nall of them denied to us
\nan inkling of the stress
\nthe wasting of our muscles
\nthat we cannot address
\nthe sores that bleed incessantly
\nthe ulcers how they bleed
\nour teeth are literally falling out
\nwe know where this will lead<\/p>\n
taken out and skinned alive
\nhooked up to that place
\na last look at the sunlight
\nand the fart whose a nut case
\nrips us through the agony
\nthe memory of it
\nfor want of any other thought
\nour bowels may pass some shit
\nwe realise but too soon
\nits over we are gone
\nand emptiness within us
\nour organs thrown upon<\/p>\n
a great stack of cadavers
\nsome movements may be so
\nas nerves take on a new life form
\nand others sort of grow
\nand slide into each other
\nanalogous to whom
\nwhat ever it once mattered
\nwhen it left its mothers womb<\/p>\n
now it doesn’t alter
\nanything life force is gone
\neach skin is what they were after
\nand will be made to don
\nsome harlot who is without a mind
\nwithout a spirit who
\nwill wear
\ndespair and chortle
\nwith their noses in the air
\npaid by Satan’s servants
\nto wear our dead skins, and
\nperpetrate the evil
\nwith what is their flagrant stand<\/p>\n
against those who would try to
\nremind the world that we
\nwere sacrificed and murdered
\nand why it had to be
\nthe upper class have noses
\nthat sit well in the air
\nbut that awful smell of roses
\nis unnatural and should scare
\nany mindful person who knows
\nthe earth was made
\nand we souls were to share it too
\nnot bolster the fur trade<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
The margins on fur coats are clearly astronomical built into a profit base that’s pathological where men of the lower order carry on their trade from the dank and darkly places where souls are stripped and laid waste in those … Continue reading