The sun behind the monolith
imparts a holy glow
a glaringly deceptive myth
as we have come to know
this obelisk of gold is just
a poorly plated stone
that's destined to erode to dust
like those it tries to own
there are no pristine virgins here
where nothing can abstain
from oaths the overburdened jeer
producing the profane
for when the profit's seeing red
the future looks quite grim
while those still faithful force the dead
to hum their horrid hymn.
Are You Reading Me?
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