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Rats

The ship is sinking
Only the rats will survive
It’s no kind of place
A world run by rats

Only the rats will survive
They feed on our remains
A world run by rats
But it’s always been the same

They feed on our remains
never had much in life
But it’s always been the same
It’s the rats who run this maze

Never had much in life
Cause they planned it that way
It’s the rats who run this maze
Death is no escape

Cause they planned it this way
They’ll own your grave
Death is no escape
In the end they win the race

They’ll own your grave
It always ends this way
In the end they win the race
You can’t dream it away

It always ends this way
they gnaw  through the hull
You can’t dream it away
The ship is sinking.

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Categories: Poetry
  1. June 14, 2010 at 3:34 am

    Wow. Yeah. When I think of the Gulf, that’s about how I feel. Good analogy, IMO, even though this pantoum could fit any imperialistic situation.

  2. Deb
    June 14, 2010 at 3:35 am

    This view of the “sinking ship” fits my mood this week.

    It’s interesting, too, to read a short line pantoum, to wonder how it accentuates the poem, since the proportion of repetition is so much greater.

    Thanks for playing along!

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