They called a tune for a dance
The drums were assembled
Their skins to beat
And refused they, its tune to dance.
Rhythm like sour lime on the lips
They threw up angrily
The unripe, what they have picked.
The drumming went into frenzy
Sparkling tears instead of cheers
Hypocritical waters through their vent
Flooding the dry corners of the eyes
Of their stony souls
Many times has death yielded not
To their venomous lips until now
25. 07. 2013
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