Keep The Original Hidden... Poem by Fallen Too Far

You would think
This parade is an alibi
An enchanting masquerade
A race is what it's turned
Pale dauntless figurines
In a losing epic


Erupt a laugh
To see a fall
And scream at their own
[Mindless dramatics]
They run
[Helter-skelter]
Like rats how absurd
Children growing older
Every minute
Every lie


And what are they chasing
These mindless vagabonds
Don't notice bloody feet upon
Stained enameled dirt
Grinning like cats
After a kill
So pitiful, so mad
And beyond the point of return


If they would notice, they would see the sign on the road of the trial of the race that they are so scrupulously tainting:


' Death: 2 Miles '