The Painted Face - Original Poetry
What sumptuous feast of murder on the cards.
I want to wake up, will you wake up too?
Toy soldiers with real guns.
We're only human after all.
I have a solution, a glorious clarion call.
Making broad strokes about tomorrow.
Fortunate James, today the sky falls.
Stormed the ditch and took the gate.
A quick smoke to celebrate.
Before paired key turned in lockstep.
Releasing the only solution.
Nuclear Winter,
Starve them all out.
Let them eat Crow.
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