The Greatest Advantage Of Formal Attire Is The Ability To Conceal Heavy Weaponry

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Tip the hat
But we can see behind your back
Where you are brandishing your sword
To strike the tragic little masochistic amorists

And in fact
I slipped a tray beneath my slacks
In case you had a sudden urge
To take a shot across this heavy sided playing field

But we are not the petty little thieves
Stealing hearts and leaving roses in their places
We are calibrating spaces

No, we are not the foolish ones, it seems
Waging wars and leaving cratered devastation
Like some morbid recreation

Take a bow
But are they clapping for you now
It seems the crowd has turned around
To read the teleprompter leaking through the velveteen

Faking out
The loyal masses with their doubts
Is getting harder with so
Many who believe in sewing hearts upon their sleeves

But we are not the decorated whores
Selling beauty in the dens of conversation
We are tracing desperation

Oh, we are not the serpentine parade
With our tongues around the fruit of policy
We are the uninvited free

Untasted

A bitter drought has gripped your reign
Bring forth the women and their spawn
Pray to your Gods if they can hear
Our jaded kind to carry on
The trusted vintages are dry
The teaming rivers turned to dust
Sun scorched the bones beneath the sky
Will you return to dine with us

We are the fruit
The ones untasted
All your silences are wasted

We are the wine
The finer spirits
As you cry too loud to hear us

We are the sustenance and pleasure
As you suffer at your leasure

We are the future to replace you
But our flavors are untasted