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In a land down under Their corpses lay Compressed under the weight One Thousand souls A hundred thousand more All lost to time But with you, no more their bodies will be harvested
Earth's ocean is dark So much of the black substance I am so angry
America the Great? More like America's a fraud, Stealing from the poor, trying to keep up their facade, Polishing their shoes with the sweat of hard workers, Blaming us for their troubles when they're the real shirkers,
MLA format is cruel to the trees. Those pale promises of untouched space on the backs of papers
We are all taught to believe our choices are our own,
What are we? what are we but a mere two specks on a world of seven billion? what is our world but an average-sized sphere amongst a limit of spheres to which we know no bound?
It bubbles Up up UP from OUR ground! What's the trouble With what was found? Why can't we drill Down down down into our OWN land? Yes, it CAN kill. It can even dirty a hand!
Gazing into the bowels of the beast known as Boomtown I watch as its victims succumb to the temptations The depravations The unending depreciation Of small-town America All sparked by a foul-smelling black fuel.