A cross, burning brightly in the distance,
I'm looking from a point far away,
But in the right place.
No more country for the righteous,
No more gold for the coffers of lies.

A robe splattered with deceivers blood,
An old man lies dead,
A fascist responsible for death,
And no eternal rest awaits those,
Blinded by the sparkle,
Of the baubles and trinkets.
Black smoke trails in the sky.

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