Insurrection by Nomad
Hungry eyes like a windReproduction blows off naked
fields slightly Frozen mouths like a whirlGusty dance of
angry speechesSatiated areas of lit groansMourning
flagsThe grape picking is comingThere is cool rainy
duskLumped desires are bitingDragged bodies of the
torture are stinkingIt's time to flog the enlightened
renovationGraves of battles and bowsRavens of whispers
and dyingAd infinitum I'm hitting the nameThe anger has
forgotten about the tornado on dry sandsOh, skies of
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