Act Three: Forced Living Poem by Nicholas Neato

This place is a slaughter house
Race to be first in line
Lie and cheat and steal
Sweetie your doing just fine
See the blood splattered on the walls
I'm just thanking God it's not mine
And to my unmoral old ex-best friends
The paths not within the wine

I guess what I'm trying to say is
It's not working well for you

I guess what I'm trying to explain is
I'm so ashamed

I really need to get this out of the way
Your an embarrassment

Can you try to keep it all together now?

I hate to be the bearer of bad news but;
The blind are leading you to hell

The church bell ringing above the church;
The signal of the ship that will surely fail

Those preacher's teachings and children taught;
Just the drum beats for the marching damned

Walking through this tortured dream
The only touch that can kill me
Is the mercy of God's hand