Day Sixteen: The Iconflict - Trap Them

Where they cast the cults

Was where we dropped our walking sticks

And we bit the suits of armor draped

On every boneless body bound stripped and singed

So ride us in

All they ever had to say was

«Madam/sir, please take care of the ones

That never set a swollen foot out of this town

And got baked alive by the sun.»

They had set their working clothes out

On the cardboard beds in the shacks and stands

That paid the rent of a million wealths

While they pissed out all the demands

So here we are above your grandest plans on trace

And on call with our youngest firestarters

Lighting the rags in the alcohol

Ignitor, this is where they left you

Celebrator, this is where they leave us

Let’s see how long you drink to the narcotized brethren

That provide all your elixir

We shaped a color to deem your charge

And it fit you well and it hit its mark

We fed the mouths that you shut

For fear of the lobes that heard what they had to list

About subtle robs and unnoticed acts

In the stores of the poor where will has prolapsed

Warning hauled through the open air

In your solid circle of well placed barricades

You had time to shelter your collected owns

And fall back steady on righteous roles you play

So here we are, so here we’ve been

So here is where we brand ourselves as the epidemics begin

Here we hold the blackout rains the refusal hymns

The death of praise and the rise of sins

Here we leave our harm as we raise our arms to the march

And we fill the rafts all soured and ashed

With the last of of the killing yards