all your gods new and old are dead flying over our heads on a fraying thread
your golden age is through soon we’ll all be on the same plane as you
been walking through us on stilts
out of sight, unmarred by guilt but I can see you growing weaker
the scales teeter
you’re falling from the sky
one at a time
you can’t hide your crimes forever
the line between you and your lies can’t be severed
your trade’s shading our eyes but the scum under your boots is poised to rise
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