empty bowls setting the mood
the axis of revolution tilting towards
the window of self-prophecy
facial expressions have diminished
slate carved impressions now conquer all
any warmth has vanished into
a sky now full of clouds made of
lost realities and hope
the book is open
the mind is closed shut
subdued ideologies from the left and right
giants of our time yet invisible
to the average human eye
one remark is suddenly blasphemy
another is conspiracy
and the final is pure evil sin
the hand of man has met its match
creation has lost all beauty
the god in all of us is gasping for air
while we continue to suffocate ourselves
intellect will reign supreme
so just take your stroll and
read your signs
nothing is wrong and nothing else matters
take this path and you'll be met
by an eight inch concrete wall
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