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Shepherd Taking The Farmland

Bright day, Sunday in the carriage

Damp air in my hay, water sprouts barrage

Croaking gates of the barn, far away across my barren land

Sickly old man yelled “DARN!”, yet no vulture lend their hand.

Cracked soil falling off the sky, dying cattle rising up the hill

Cow men tearing agony abnormally, Farm men gouged their eyes out looking at the bill Desperate times ahead, one by one taken by The Crossroad.

Crooked eyes all they have, nooked lands all they give

“Pray to The Lord” a blessed man said in his rave, staying all night spreading his love. Blessings stay a vast, blessings away by grand.

Be gold and prayers answered, bless the man and his prophet

Lost all his faith and blood gutted, may he not lose his gauntlet

Crying out loud all he wants, silent as a lamb though he may be,

He should stay true as honesty and false as a fraud he shouldn’t be.

Giving fake deeds he won’t see, he should stay true and let honesty be.

Apostles building up anger adoring their nookies

Children swiping treats and spare no cookies

Gleaming eyes of fiery farm men soared up the night

Blinded by the unforgiven hands infected blight

Giving them reasons, kissing their demise

Preaching them Lords, killing their pride

Now it’s time to providence, it’s time to rapture. Now nothing left to give, nothing left to build Now my barren land is destined

Now My Lord is scarred

Now we’re left. Now we died.

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