Old ghosts stare like craven superzealots
Finding friends, the friendly fascists gore
Blindly pacing the tearless threnody
Gore, Gore, Bliley, Sarbanes, Gore
Blindly eating a saltless tragedy
Singing the praise of gutless guitars
The tears flowing salty streaks
Singing old tuneless chants
Blindly into the hollow night
Lit, faintly, at one end
Where the halls of people moan
Where the halls of people moan
Shadow reflections 1