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The devil was glorious when in focus, this chimney on society was the south paw to normality.
A man in uniform or a women in heels, they would all be drawn to this principality of the strange.
And now that an empty heart was the new capital city for the young, the hubbub of loneliness called to them all.
They would relinquish all ideas of individuality and at his word they would leap ‘Hang the king!’ They would cry. For tomorrow the bicycle tracks of our failed history will be faded and the super state family will rule like magnets over plastic ‘Hang the flag!’ Bait the hate filled masses, for rocket powered headlines and tales of lonely foreign legions will be the insurance of our new social order 23, 22, 21, 20... becomes the countdown and the price of razor blades begins to rise.
And now every citizen dreams of the chance to have his own mirror so he can reflect to the world that which he thinks they want to see as And now every blood line is soured against the onset of time.