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Sitting by the River Last Night

the Nambul is weary now, 
Forever watching its own tedious flowing
Under the cerise skies,
Hearing the all-time wailing

The seasons are changing,
But these are only distorting
The fragmented ideas
Of killing and bombing and raping

How would we tell it to stop
Its reluctant running
Pass the lawless riverbanks
That show only desperation?

How would we tell it to stop
Its reluctant running
Pass the pipes of faeces?

But happy it is, this evening
As we sit by its side, comforting

We are innocent people, having
Brains in the buttocks;
Buttocks in the brains,

That we have always been so close,
By its bank, as we drink and dope
Forgetting the grunge and grime;
Sharing, all is not lost, yet,
We still have a packet to fill the pot
We still have the guts to gun down the government.






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