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The Artisans plan

Partisan doesn’t exist no more

The artisan is the capitalist whore

The individual is beholden to the all

Isolation grows as the collective will fall

Never the Twain shall meet

The world has splintered it’s wonky feet

Makes you want to shed a tear

Easier to ignore and fall into another beer

A cultural fall, a Scottish greet

the stranger we refuse to meet

With all the gods at our gates

Surveying our consumption as a hoard of ingrates

There is no heaven or hell

the fires are ringing the climate bell

It’s not the 50’s, nothing is swell

It’s not the 90’s, nothing is safe

It’s just a new day of repeating human disgrace

A planet thats dying as we lose the human race