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War Is Over

War is Over

Never had I seen a God
‘Til you came in
And I got high, and felt me nearing Paradise.

Then came the war,
And the crown I wore a wreath of majuruana
And squatted in occasional trenches
through long narcotic nights.
Some chieftains granted me their pipes
And the mercenaries came with bayonetted crimson needles.

No, never I have felt the same
To smoke my ashes lit ablaze
With Dionysus' merry flock of fiends.
In the sepulchre of an emerald furnace;
a field of weary faces slumped in hands
such twisted loathsome loneliness,
a throne of wretched downfall.

Aye, let me go from here
enduring as an alien
With all my many tongues to brood
one saving grace near Paradise.
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