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Eyes fixed with dire ambition,
We stalk, unknown, unseen,
Unheard, but for sinister laughter,
Shadow's sons and Twilight's daughters.
In sewer tunnels slick with stinking moisture,
Vine-choked towers, neglected and forgotten,
In dimly-lit cobblestone alleys,
And musty cellars we make our homes.
We sleep with rats, and run like lions,
Lurk in darkness, pounce when the time is true.
Snatching purses from belts with black stilettos,
We skip away, snickering in the dark.
Chaos hair, laughing circus,
We whisper nameless, coded, hieroglyphic tongues,
Sharing secrets in squatted corners
of What-You-Call-Destroyed.
Listen close and hear the gentle nothing,
The Scamper-Song of calloused vermin feet,
Crescendo retreating as the torchlight advances,
Phantasmagoric vespers escaping from Dawn.
We hum and whistle these silent symphonies,
'Round fires burning What-You-Throw-Away,
We dirty children whose playground is the night,
Frolicking in the blackest corners and rubble of yesteryear.
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We sit my brother,
atop the sacred hill,
on derelict ruins of modernity,
I see the cougars prowl,
By the light of a thousand, thousand stars.
Five!, the beat we pound on timeworn drums,
FIve!, the voice of pond frogs echoes back,
Five!, the laughter we share beneath a blanket of fog,
Five!, the fawn prances in the thick breath of night,
Five!
Drum, my brother, drum, as if you've never drummed before,
Drum for the splendid silver gloom of midsummer,
Drum for the glory of Wy'East!
Drum for the glory of Wy'East!
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