PACING SHUDDERS

The ooze flows down his nose,

red clear enough for him to tell the ground owes him a few drops,

I’d wish to help, neither can I stand the choke held by the airs around,

Pelt by pelt, the stones whisk us by,

I hear a voice squint, guess he embraced the copper whose covers litter my scenery,

Commands high out loud, march to the front ye corporals,

dance to the tunes of gun rattle, choking breezes and stones, for to the above, you  must listen,

Flee for dear lives my fellow ones, the gas, cuffs or copper might get you first

Where to? they are everywhere, what for? there’s nothing left to run for

Call on freedom, he’ll save you all, he stands right after them

brave the whip, cuffs and copper one day you’ll reach him.

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