half-mast all around
something’s so wrong
with the air that we
breathe if ever we
meet again who knows
where or when oh, sweet
mystery as philosopher kings
wax polemic with empty
beatitudes don’t forget us
so relentless what’s going on
the world’s gone wrong sound
the alarm of imminent harm
the alarm of imminent harm
there is no explanation for
suspicious minds the chosen
few left behind without a trace
like spitting atoms as choirs
of angels sing new society blues
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