We demand payment through apologies,
We demand that someone get fired.
We the humble and cash-carrying people
Want something better out of this god-forsaken night,
Where the clouds gather in clam shells and release their pearls.
We have had enough tornadoes for one night.
Our stomachs hurt we're homesick.
Give us a fucking job.
Give us a family diner that won't board its doors.
Enjoy your rusted penny
And the raging flames creeping up your stairwell,
Breaking and entering,
Kidnapping your newborn children.
For ransom we demand nothing but a brick of gold and some sanity.
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