Go to sleep, my dead end angel
Say good-night dear precious one
For I know you're empty-handed
And all the police carry guns
Whisper to me in the morning
And I'll kiss your blues away
For I know your body's aching
And the lynch-mob's on the way
Just to hear your footsteps
Climbing up the stairs
Just to live one single day
Without a single care
__________________
Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin to slit throats. - H. L. Mencken
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