Poetry – Prophets of Doom

Prophets of Doom

You who build all the guns, you prophets of doom.

Who trade in missiles to make your market boom.

Who stuff bombs with nails with deliberate intent

To rip through the flesh, create misery and torment.

Despicable in every way.

Scum of the earth,

Architects of misery,

Filth without worth.

Opher – 28.11.2018

This is my version of Bob Dylan’s Masters of War.

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