Decembers Dark Dance Of The Dead

 

In Decembers dark dance of the dead

Lays the embers of pasts unread

We’ve shed

Yesteryears affairs for new prison jeans

Our ways and means

Greys our greens

Sinking in the streams

Of our collective dreams

Wage slaves to corporate airwaves

Headlined with early graves covered in flags

Patriotism never so finer

When out-sourced to China

As we dispose of the prose

Of theĀ rotten rose and wilted bread

In Decembers dark and dank

Dance of the dead

 

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