Beaker

Build the world with a few spare tunnels
Milled, sheared to bear eddies of credit funneled
Secrete concrete on streets, dung jets heartbeat
Flogged trees, sorry, too late now to stop bleeds
Metal shutters strut together, cut ribbon to gutters
Cylinders to fill in dirt, burial fit for fuckers
Ration the poison, foist upon those remaining buoyant
Now that its scientific, flush it down the toilet

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