In Blood And Silver Pieces
The drones are dripping honeyAnd then the Reaper scores
In blood and silver pieces
At the tower with seven doors
The Kings and Queens are dancing
In streets made out of gold
But in the narrow lane
A child is waiting to unfold
Hear the twisted echo
From the sermon on the mount
Be sure that you have balanced
Your profit and loss account
Beware, your soul is tainted
With sins of ancient mark
Repent and give your tenth
And then you can embark
Above the church and throne
The bankers lay their eggs
And from this nest of fortune
The birds will spill the dregs
In places down below
We gather in the street
Fingers writing on the wall
And riot squads take seat
When time is almost hidden
Beneath the sacred cowl
The light is slowly fading
And winds begin to howl
In utter desolation
In times of curse and woe
I hear a growing murmur
From prayers in every row
Copyright © 2012 Göran Gustafsson. All rights reserved
Poetry by Göran Gustafsson
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Written on 2013-02-12 at 21:18
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