We are heading for apolcalypse.
Armagiddeon times.
THE FINAL MELTDOWN
kate and her catwalk kittens
doing their fashion show
plastic all over britain
where do the real roses grow?
i can see china changing
slipping out of her dress
into foreign arrangements
cheap hooker for the wild west
no place is safe anymore
you have been warned by al gore
everyone's closing their doors
life just goes on like before
nothing here counts but the profit
all hail the green paper pig
here comes success
go and get it
smash and grab like ronald biggs
some people walk over corpses
some people crawl in the mud
i' m looking for the real roses
so far not even a bud
but when the climate's too hot
all of the money you've got
all the straight flushes, jackpots
it can not help you a lot
the final meltdown's at hand
all castles built on the sand
will melt like ice in the sun
that is the end of your fun
LARZ GUSTAFSSON
September 9, 2006
Poetry by Larz Gustafsson
Read 794 times
Written on 2007-12-04 at 12:51
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