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Deafening Vespers [Deafening Vespers]

Oh land…

Your prophets smoke weed
Then covet men’s treasured field
They, travesty of righteous men
Multiply looters in righteous mien

You traverse lands and seas
To pray that others might see
Your deafening vespers
Nothing but satanic whispers

Have I not made you rich
Why celebrate in the breach?
Now your holy water is finished
But you are still famished

Guns, bombs, hunger, pain and trouble
Your hypocrisy has given you double

Written by: Jonathan Ezeanochie
Edited by: Kukogho Iruesiri Samson

Author: admin

I am a member of the WRR editorial team.

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