Appease for applause to the very last day,
Or hope for a crisis most grave,
Move unworthy winners well out of the way,
Rising like a phoenix alone from the flame,
Death by all the cuts, the irony of truth,
Reconnect with the history of youth,
So, praise to false gods, no notion of hope,
To admit the truth now, so uncouth,
Bang on about figures, removed or reduced,
The time drawing nearer to pass,
No longer attributed or reintroduced,
Deserters rebelling en-masse,
Speak fondly, kind words for the dying soul,
Prayers answered, you made it this far,
Hear the crack of the whip, the assassins goal,
Struck down by the friendliest of fire.
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