The
crooks on the round table
They
smile to each other with their loots
Hiding
it so well on the familiar road
They
don't have to say
Now
they sit and plan
The
next trip to take ahead
As
an old saying goes
“Hit
while the iron is hot!”
The
good still saying
Shouting
at the blocked gates
They
shout and use placards
The
crooks just smile away
The
sun gathers its rays
Hitting
through the window panes
The
reflection of a sign
The
crooks cover their eyes
They
know what they see
The
sins will have to be paid
The
crooks know there is no escape
The
wrath of The Lord there is no running away
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