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Sell, sell, it’s all one sell. Ya con the fools gladly, let em suffer for a song. You play the human tapestry and turn it into slot machines. Nickel for your time. Sell him out for a dime. Quarter past your prime.

This is the soul you got left. A sharp-suited slick shark unfurling in treacherous waters sniffing misery and lost hope. The drop of blood from the “if you prick us” mortals singing o fortuna arias of sad refrains. Let em howl at yellow moons, wincing the night away while drowning in regret, sinking into fate. Faith no more, all is gone, all for naught. All for the devil’s advocate hocking snake oil and diet pills.

Money money greed money money. Dollar dollar bills y’all for the stinking pot. Slop it up, feed, at the beggar’s trough. Sloppy mouth drippings mixing with saliva-ridden notes. Sickly digestion churning churning glorious green. Backs to the wall and shoveling papers in the gullet ever-ready for another course. Coarse delicatessen unsubtly served up; silver platter for the suckling pig qua man. Rotund moribund stuffed and squealing black and pink demons. Gloaning with desire and veiny vile avarice. They come to sup and filth roll around in iniquitous decadence.

The great folly of the long pig. The down and dirty deeds done cheap. A pawn brokers grimace at the poor man’s last leg. Certificates and IOU’s awash in the mourning light. Bathed and beautified life debt passing from generation to generation. Here comes the solicitor to proffer consolidation, allowing interest for the purchase. Usual usury on the list of dos. Free today, slave tomorrow. All a set-up for the master’s relish. Pull at chains to show the score.

Forever and forever the timeless romp does go. We humans do not learn to overthrow the wicked worms. Slithering malcontents content on gluttoning on the fattening fatuous sorrow. The pawns have moved, the game’s afoot, when shall the war relent?