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People drop like flies all throughout the day.
Coughing up blood, screaming, and crying in every blood curdling way.
Then try to run away but soon get mowed down.
Pretty soon there is no one left in this once booming town.
He says start from scratch rebirth is the way.
But then what of the children just born this day.
As dogs lick their wounds and horses lie lifeless.
There he goes again putting prices on the priceless.
The river of blood flowing like the falls of Niagra.
The ones that aren’t dead are prisoners like in Attica.
As he walks towards his haven of walls and security.
He has no question of his purpose, his purity.
Famine and pestilence, all in a days work.
But then out of nowhere his shoulder feels a jerk.
As he looks over the city, his vision it flowers.
But in his ear he hears, Mr. President we have lost the twin towers.