Homonym Plunder
with foe piety they pray upon us these profits of death these bottom-line martials who make the rich idols while the poor suffer a loan and suffer always alone caged in a sell ate daze a weak losing hour minds as the mighty eight the week oh, how they whined and they dined and licked every last peace with our bodies on a steak and our blood read as meat the world’s now in vein as the son starts to brake on the seize on the land on the cracks on our souls on the waits on our feat