Born on the cusp of insanity,
Some south of center, stark, cold,
fed from the breast of time,
nutrients derived of galactic manna.
Reared where Eonís memories
sing harmony with lost souls,
shall we gather at the river,
the pleasant refrain covering
sobs of the damned.
Unfettered of mortal flesh and bone,
praise-filled voices rise on high
as lucre spills from collection plates.
Another day, another dollar.
The final bailout promised,
C.E.O.ís writhe in green glory;
Christians, homeless, beg the streets.
Let eternity commenceÖ..
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