by Ari Collins
When the sun refused to shine, I powered up my backup generator.
When the moon turned red with blood, I grabbed my assault rifle.
When the trumpet sounded its call, I knew where to go.
When the saints went marching in, I opened fire.
And when the new world was revealed, we conquered its ass.
Friday, July 24, 2009
In That Number
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1 comment:
xD I liked this one -- imagery, structure -- everything.
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