Thousand Year Field of Battle

Gaze to the East to see a new sun,
When it ends, it is time to shun.
Yet clocks tick on thoughtlessly,
Any new portraits of progress that you can see?

Greed and oppression still wear the crowns,
War for peace, petticoats for dressing gowns.
Measure progression in technological grace,
Still, here we are you have to hide your real face.

They sell you dreams of Tomorrow-Land,
And bite the ones that feed the lust open hand.
Are you busted nothing has shifted,
All become numb except the insane and the gifted.

Rising up, time for the field of the freak-show battle,
We are sainted souls dressed in black, not your slaughterhouse cattle.
You can drag me on the rocks of painted out misery,
At the end of the thousand years gap, just repeated history.

Thomas Spychalski

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