Them Good Folk

There’s a lot o’ good people in the wasteland

Amongst the bastards on their lofty thrones.

Behind the screens we sit, an’ form a band

An’ dare ’em all ta break our thinnin’ bones.
 

I’ll ne’er see ye, not eye to eye, but read

The tappin’s on yer desk at witchin’ hours

An’ mark the words of anguish an’ of need

Ta find some form o’ touch that topples towers.
 

Exit the dungeon. Matters nah the likes

An’ loves forced at this time o’ the morn.

Support for fightin’ ghosts, or rousin’ strikes

Ta voice the discontent that feeds the scorn.
 

They’s out there, in the wasteland, them good folk –

Don’t shrivel back an’ silent shrink away.

Above the turret poke, an’ drop yer cloak,

Eyes open, smilin’ – join our happy play…

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Them Good Folk

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