They pounded the ground with their feet
That had walked from length to length
Of a world they had taken for kindling
And a dustbowl was left

They tore up the words
The golden voices
Captured in lines and loops
Ripped through the pages

Ripped through the cities
Ripped through the bodies
Of the women living
Of the girls living

They tore down the temples
They tore down the homes
They burned all the books
They branded the cattle

And named them their own
Their keepsakes
Burying thoughts
Burying yesterday

Burying tomorrow
A new world
Older than the stoneage
A pale and milky dustbowl

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