After the revolution Bodies strewn about roasted by the equatorial sun Guarded by the stench And still moist from last night’s deluge The aroma Of rotting flesh Calls we bugs to the feast Robert K. Stephen
After the revolution Bodies strewn about roasted by the equatorial sun Guarded by the stench And still moist from last night’s deluge The aroma Of rotting flesh Calls we bugs to the feast Robert K. Stephen
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