In the onrush
Heart rending brutality of survival
Scores of them hurtling forward
Some thrown aside some dragged along
A riot
Albeit one they are all used to
In the middle attend
There is the tragic baby
Lost and pitifully crying
It has evoked poignant sighing
For 17,778 nights running
We do the anarchy bit well
The popular drama company
Knows this about itself
When the gates of heaven close,
Acid burnt asses
Will try in vain
To get entry
As noble gases
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