Listicapats. Alana Tran P1 West. This is the town of Listicapats , Hidden by the shadows of us, But though it be unknown, It’s work has been sewn, In the fabrics of our lives, Enter the town of Listicapats , Find you, tinkering and bits, Toiling away are the nobodies,
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This is the town of Listicapats,
Hidden by the shadows of us,
But though it be unknown,
It’s work has been sewn,
In the fabrics of our lives,
Enter the town of Listicapats,
Find you, tinkering and bits,
Toiling away are the nobodies,
Who know nothing more than this.
Are those who know but obey,
Meek and humble, or holding a grudge,
They are given a measly pay,
The town is pristine,
Intricate and grand,
Listicapats is the greatest work of man.
But admired by all,
They, on the other hand,
Take great care it won’t fall.
A propaganda so subliminal,
The guardians of this town,
The hidden jewels of Listicapats.
It, awe-inspiring, behold,
But enchantments of this spell,
Have manipulated us,
But do sorrow betold,
In the horizon,
Are the consequences,
The town and its greed.
Waste away all the same,
A circle of lifelong bills ensue,
When prices inflate like a balloon,
Like a gasp for a breath,
As those victims of Darwinism suffocate.
Behold, the grand city of Listicapats!
A shadow that grows larger with time,
The empire looms,
Let truth see the light,
But no, it shant,
It’d people will never be the same.