How much time does he wait?
Becoming food for the people he feeds,
People here, people there,
He waits and begs, one second, one life.
The legs are in the brain, shut, the sludge,
It turns him now, from one to many.
He is dissolved, like all the rest, in pieces,
Rest.

The sludge is pumped and mixed,
It feeds the brains of fools,
Of greedy man, that dear not dream,
Or scream themselves into the world,
As babies do when they are born.
Will they ever be born?

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