Just don’t shoot his bronze tinted feet officer

For that would be blasphemous

And leave the blood streaming from his crown

For that is your appetite

Dripping drop by drop on hot pavement

Quenching the thirst of dead kings rebranded

He struggles but a moment

Reluctantly giving up the ghost

Whilst the bystanders scramble to earn their likes

Woe unto them …

If only they knew that he hid himself amongst the despised

 

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