The Cellar

The skeletons are rattling,
There’s blood on the walls
And the ceiling’s on fire.

Release the hounds,
Uncage the vultures,
There are strangers with photographs
And skinny children that cry,

In the cellar there lie pictures
Of what the world once was,
There are rumours and conjectures
Men in boiler suits and masks,

Politicians wait for transcripts
But the truth is more than words.

Poetry.net

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