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Conquistador Me / my compadres, Survived aged old Without illusions We knew That this wasn't the whole world Sought the gold of time; Smudging that line in the sand: Amidst the clouds Gates of pearl, Open arms Entered much rejoicing Their emperor unseen In his own kingdom We told them: 'others came Before us To steal his atom, his miracles many, we only want his gold, In the name of He who is Human, we only want his gold ' / breaking your harps Colouring your Whites with smallpox Cutting off your Wings and making You eat them chasing You like Black llamas Herded, stuffed, caught Your tolerance and Sad acceptance No match for Our broken shards of Victorian Bitter, littered Slit. Ciphen his gold with Our own hourglass Sell, at profit, as pure suicide The vintage of a lifetime, With no where left to go, I write this, The last of the conquistadors, To die.
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