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The Melting pot finally heard its shot in the rock show hell mêlée
The politicians grinned as they swigged their gin at the Eton school soiree
The day three colours cried
Red white and blue twenty-four hour news
It turned my profile grey
The crowds gathered as the tabloids slathered
Is this the end of days?
The day three colours cried
The smell in the air, no sweet perfume, just the tear gas parade
The tower sighed as people died on the terrace, in cafes
The day three colours cried
The day three colours cried

Copyright John de Gruyther 2015

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