Sometimes justice is further from reach than you think
It is antiquated in an assortment of General drink
Myriads of color flashing in the sky
Some white, some pink, and some purple dye
Falling judgment rain on the face
Will the grave feel its pain?
When fallen slain is projected on semi-tall places
Can white-washed masses grab the pain?
Crowds enjoy the fire works and flies
It is the sundry night mood of summertime
Maybe this will help seclude our senses
And exchange our visions with better lenses
Death awaits at your stoic door
Will Adam tremble at the news?
When their symphonic stench is felt in every place
Can death himself speak at the news?
Always hope is fleeting if you view him down the gun
The barrel still sounds louder than life rays of sun
Adam from the dust you came and fall
beating against the wind in military call
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Dude. I love this. it's really good.
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