Fogs Dighting

Everything is backwards

And nothing goes ahead.

We will all be dead.

It will not be said.

We knew what we did here.

Out of thought in to fear.

No reason now for rhyme.

We are outa time.

The chickens have come home.

Barry Williams http://barry-williams.com/blog

Much of what I write will be quite understandable to insane folks.

The rest will be, uh, less understandable...

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