I�m tired of

����������� Ambivalent masses

Storing their sin theories

Where I can�t reach

����������� Who leave deplorable assets

Artifacts numb to anticipation

Preserved by refrigeration

Flesh bodies

Full of sounds and������ pink

I want to talk about skin

And pain

And Grass breaking

Under

Breaking

Solidarity

But just for a minute, or they�ll stitch you up with

Words someone

Wise and simple said

Provoking harmless herds to

Join hands and sing

Outdated Beatles songs

����������� Still, I don�t regret killing the president

Or the corporation that makes my rich relatives

Even more so

����������� In that regard

And straying from the Democratic vote

I ��������� find ����������� myself

Upper

Middle

And

Torn�