Execution Museum

The skin from scalps is sticky
The Judge, with hand on his...
Turns sand to blood as he
Smiles, spits he tells me
It's the start of your death
And you know nothing yet
The light's gone and wretched
Curl in a coil, their last rites
Howl of squalor
Now relish your appetites
[And the rest of us
Slouch and bear witness]
Execution Museum



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