no emigrants from the grave
hothouse earth
we all beg asylum
migrants from the mad house
where’s refuge for us now
for if you take my place
and i take yours
our viewpoints are indifferent
in the retinal fire
seared blind
we fight with our white sticks
falling off the road to ruin
the king of the castle
rules over rubble
fight and flight
our ire’s fire has scorched us
the last boat’s pyre
has fired us up
no fool like a cold fool
the ashes of iniquity are dearth
and it has cost us the earth
no emigrants from the grave
not one fist will throw down
the final ceremonial soil
the grave of fulfilment
remains unfilled
where is your god now
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