England (Remove filter)
Hatred Junkie
Fake nostalgia spews out from your head
For a sepia England that was never there
Hatred junkie, you know
Where the blood river flows
Feel the bile at your knees
Marching bands drown out your higher brain
Blaring voices drive your soul insane
Hatred junkie, you feel
Like a cog on a wheel
Grinding so out of time – after time
God made you useless
...Tuesday 18th June 2013 1:03 pm
Recent Comments
Rick Varden on Money
4 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Nobody Loved Me Like You
6 hours ago
Tom Doolan on Je t’adore.
6 hours ago
Tim Higbee on It Matters Not
9 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Weekly WalkaboutsVerse, E.G., Poem 140 of 230: HOUSING
12 hours ago
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh on Money
12 hours ago
David Franks on Weekly WalkaboutsVerse, E.G., Poem 140 of 230: HOUSING
13 hours ago
Manish Singh Rajput on It Matters Not
13 hours ago
Clare on Je t’adore.
1 day ago
John Coopey on AUTUMN TREES
1 day ago