John L

Three rows of pale brunettes protect him from the crowd
The curtain is a patch work of imitation vermillion
A red ball hangs low from the thrown that’s been found
This is a simulation when John Fifty come to town
This is a simulation when John Fifty come to town
(?) overwhelmed by their (kin?)
Our world has no escape from this inferno (?)
(?) of bethlehem, come around this world
Come listen to me, to my eternal word
Do not be deceived by whatever they may say (?) round eyes and Noses and curves
A man is his country, his country is you, all man is forewarned or all Good
will come true
The rambling (?) hits hard with frenzy
The echo of his crueling (?) (ceased?) to be heard
No long (?) broken in two
And thrown (in?)to the snouts of the anteater (crew?)
John Fifty is in tethers, his silk (?)
His torn robes worn by the tree stumps of the earth
(?) an army, last long before me
(reach?) men who yearn for the old and bloody glory
(?) couldn’t survive the (?)
(?) their fathers
No man with an army, will last long for these words
(?) men who long for their own teenage girls
This was a simulation when john 50 came to town
That was a simulation when john 50 came to town