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Sweep The Masses MAG
The field is rushed with fire
As the word chaos is welcomed.
Puddles of blood to clean their feet.
As they walk through the valley of shadows
the screams ring in their ears.
The bug bites infect the body.
The sun blisters their soles;
Bloody, bloody souls.
Stepping over the ones lost
Brothers and family.
The sand scorches skin;
Then the red flows in.
Massive colors of black and red,
Green and blue,
Don’t look to the heavens
For you will surely die.
And if you’re looking at hell
You must already be gone.
Infecting the soil with their tears.
Memories to come to those who walk on them.
Break the sun, and bring in the night
For today is nothing to celebrate.
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