The Burners

Wolves ‘n Red Hats

You renege on your rich man’s promises as fast as a junkie on a Friday night payday. Spewing false hope out your ass to the poor folk you entertain at your shiny table, you gather sanctimony guarded by golden green clouds of money – gathered on your horde, a new dragon facing enlightenment always looking over your shoulder, to see who wants some of your stuff hung around your neck, a shit butt albatross. Gathered together in one place you push your condo to the desert in search of artists – hands full of $. Knowing if you decorate your body better you can look like you are one of them. At 300 sheckles per (+RV & drugs) you hoi polloi yourself in quest for enlightenment. When you return to the new world those same shit butt hopes are wolves in red hats awaiting you return.


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