I don't like it.
Dance fools, dance on your host's grave.
Sing songs around the burning camp-fire,
learn from example how to behave,
and hope to God this doesn't happen to you.
Roast some marshmallows,
look up high,
the stars that dance and dare,
up in that sapphire sky.
Yeah, I'll have none of it. I'm only going to taste the hard flavor of money, I'm going to sell your kids out, and I'm going to make you foot the bill.
1 comment:
Good writing here, enjoyable to read. At least I'm a fan of your style.
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