Here lie the signs of the times
In mason jars
Buried below,
The bay of bloodhounds

Here lie
The last shreds of faith in mankind
The banknotes of the earth
All snarled together

Here lie the remains, of a post-war soiree
When the good times raged
And rolled off the cliffs

Falling for the grave
Where the sullen remain
And shovel and toil
To the end of their days

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