Ways of a world 

The wise ones
Sullen and pitiful
In their graves of earth
With termites at their heels
They are not dead
Living bastards, beasts of a world

The foolish one
Clothed in mediocre purity
Fastened to an uncaring grave
Always smile, always decay
Alas! But he is not a dead man
Only living in practiced ecstacy

The mad ones
The ones who are Gods
The filthy souls of this realm
Left in an ubiquitous sneer
The graves fake their deadness in warmth
All hail insanity, the only thing worth having


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