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We Run This [2nd Draft] by Daniel Bishop
i burn the bush it's a sign from god. no it's allah with a fist full of sod. it's all a façade in a dream based on law. i'm the devil in disguise in the scene where you pause...and pull the curtain, most certainly flirtin with a person. i'm workin on approachin a portion of diversion through immersion in my learnin that the vermin are squirmin when i burn em with my furnace. the faunas in a sauna, the flora turned to lawn, the polar caps are melting by the welts of burning dawns. i talk about the right left and wrongs with sights set on bombs so i can bond with the populace, let em know they're safe while i rape the acropolis. breeding seeds to copulate with the mockery, intoxicate your property, shock the flock properly to stop the clock for socrates. bruises blown fuses and muses, disinformation confuses, but this information amuses the user. it chooses abusers and maneuvers improvements. born again to swarm again, they're torn within by a thorn of him. cornered by a border grin i'm orderin a sword and pen cause i can't afford to be bored again, it's forgery of a mortal zen. burn the bush it's atomic jihad exploding at your job, with a pale western face to replace the façade. i'm undercover under the mothership. if i die i'm a martyr if i live i'm hell. sell my soul to the sky i defy and rebel. and so it goes...i decompose as my story grows.