It's Wrathday, Dies Irae.
Have mercy on us!
-- though we deserve it little:
the best warzipan is baked in our city
and we have invented a painful
suicide method for the whole world.
Couldn't we have some meat
from one of your fat joints gone wasting?
Oh! have mercy on us!
- No, you may not have meat
as the worms turn seamlessly in single file;
this is Wrathday, Dies Irae.
A simple habit taken from a child:
smearing from gold leaf the candy of war
on the crossed awnings of the angry buildings.