Low

Low upon the gutters top,  top and high of the moral ground  ground up pulses in the soil,  soil that covets the bones.  Bones of crooked memories,  memories of those twisted lives,  lives of corrupt business men  Businessmen that lie.  Lying with a mouth of secrets,  secrets that fester in the barrel  barrel of that smoking gun  gunning for our hearts.  Hearts they fill with our rage,  Rage, you’ll find, that never...