They shall not bury them

in the alleyways they fall in,

the concrete just does not give

way to the simple spade like grass

and dusty earth, from mud we came

and when the first shots

of final rebellion come,

don’t get caught on open streets,

hard knocks, no grave where you fall,

left most likely to rot in the space

you met your end in,

crows tearing at your eyes,

crows tearing at your eyes;

they have no fear of you,

no open battle ground,

you have made their job easy

by being supplicant to their wishes,

and now they start to bury you

as crows tear at your eyes,

as crows tear at your eyes.

Ian D. Hall 2017