January 6, 2010
In the circus of many
the freaks have disappeared
The moon is almost hidden
it's just as they had feared
The expected rain has came
and the riots know the worst
They'll keep burning postage stamps
till October thirty first
And to none they write their letters
of depression and despair
For the writings don't belong to me
it's enough that i don't care
But they'll start the riot anyway
and burn the stripped colors
Soon the anarchy will spread
through sisters and through brothers.

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