I hear the storm; I hear evil sounds.
They chase me down in the corridors.
The growls and rage are on the ground.
Casted scene by a conspirator.
A search for refuge I must find
My life is hanging on a string.
Just like a piece of meat is hanging.
For vicious dogs devouring.
The mind is wandering around, but not in the square.
Hopes and dreams flushing in front of my eyes
Is this true? Would they really dare?
Will truth and justice be chastised?
Oh, dear friend, I beg for a shelter,
Oh, dear friend, they are after me.
The drum is beating under my sweater.
I beg for life; I beg to be free.
Reblogged this on Ned Hamson's Second Line View of the News.
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