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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
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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