You bribed to acceptance
Our black bulls to the noose
Bulls that could plough the great fields
Of decadence in our mother yards
And grow forth rich latents
In our women’s breasts
And now you want the herd
Even after feasting on the shepherd
You impious vampire! Leave my blood
Listen to the dirge of the mocking bird
Lamenting the lost souls in your yard
In grief of your greed, yet unheard!
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