Wednesday, 23 February 2011

Play the Game

They try to crawl into your lives
And whine and wheeze and spit their lies
That fall like rancid acid rain,
Destroying peace with bile and shame.
These sycophantic nightmares breathe
Rank torpid air, that serves to feed
Their own desires, base and low,
Just how much lower can they go?
The finer points of life soon lost
Fair play and honour turned to dust,
For eating out their souls for gain
Mere shallow empty husks remain.
But trapped inside their rules they stay
And die a little more each day,
And soon forget they'd ever been
More than a hating, lie machine.
So pity them, they cannot see
Just how much more they could have been.
The players played, alone, undone
For this damn game will ne'er be won.

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