The Long Fall of Justice Pt. 3

Whither is that road
of moat
for depraved souls
of worhips, always good
whence he stood
in deprived luxury

and so in standstills
it's the life he hated
because it's when
he can't domesticate
nut-sedges

he'd henceforth be a million souls
and burn all grasses;

we're too brutal a kind
and he's just nobody this time -
it's the long fall of justice,
so he'll be somebody tonight