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little men murmur
making little plans
voices growing firmer

don't bother with spittle
open little cans
you've no one to belittle

little men whisper bigger plans
hear nothing but snakes and sneers
disappear
under rabbit's feet and ears
little men walking under layers of veneer
it interferes

little men curse
looking for the big and perverse
lay down low in your qualms
wonder: can they sense the quarrels within?
sweat and itch in your palms
count every sin:

prayed to golden calf, ever did I laugh, took your name in vain felt no pain struck my mother cut my brother damned your sabbath

begging for a blood bath
do you feel my wrath?
I've no mother's pride
I've no morals to abide