the rain
Darkness hour descends
On the day when justice dies
Whatever forms you want to believe
The spins and the side lanes
The gloomy light
The shadows smile
They catch the drifters
Telling them tales of the night
They hawk of money
They sell their souls
They seek prospects
They seek prestige
They don't work for people
Though they want to be paid
Running errands for the political master
Branding others rubbish in the bin
Darkness hour descends
On the day when justice dies
God fearing in lip services
They play the game of political gains
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