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When’s The End of the Line?



Beseeching you, Lord Lucifer

Rise from your depths again

Cup together your fiery hands

Scoop up unworthy men


Holy wingéd Gabriel

Show us an Archangel's true worth

Blowhard through Joshua's trumpet

Blast away the walls of the earth


Descend your throne Almighty God

Don't drag this mortality out

Steal away those judged godly souls

Interred, for whom you tout


Come on Evil Despots

With your doomsday missiles, we dread,

Fearing those days soon coming,

When we're targeted, and we're dead


Apologies Mother Nature

It's for you that we should worry

You need to demonstrate your worst

Finally, make us all sorry


Whichever way, the world will end

It won't be opportune

Surely we'll blow ourselves away

And very, very soon

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George Orwell 1903-1950

Young man. E. A. Blair. Literary genius An uncommon flair. Each page, inspired, His soul laid bare, Dystopia pondered From his polished wooden chair. He wrote of men Who lived without a prayer, P.S. B

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