GENERATIONS OF
BOILED BLOOD
Why do you do this - you throwers, you
bombers, you killers, you men? What can it
mean, then - any of it - for a torrid soul on fire?
Why go home, just to die? Straight to Heaven,
that grand, lethargic place, that's where these
good deeds bring you? And who taught you
that? I've got shovelfuls of bullets and ammo
you can have for nothing - long, long back I
gave it all up. Now I am free, and, more than
that, am so happy without you here.
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