A poem i wrote on a napkin at mcdonalds, stoned

We are the ones of grim and malice;
Claim our land and dwell in our Palace;
Manipulate feeble mind, peaceful mind;
Eliminate peace of mind.

What else will we find, if, still, we look upon;
Seek out for comfort, inward,
How can we move forward, then?
Behind our own lines.

Pick another one for the pick;
Shovel our mud, leave the bodies in the mud;
Thud, Thud, Thud;
Just those three.

 

yeah, true, ill work on the last two verses in a bit

and thanks for the feedback man