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25 The Chain Who made the chain, never had been chained, A chain bruises, it never soothes. It puts to shame innocence and guilt alike, Be it of copper, silver or gold. Who was chained, if one he makes, His, kills it never spares, For revenge, his craftsmanship, Barbs the chain to do his will. Who made the police, never of the ghetto is, Only in the ghetto do the police forage, Laying waste good and evil alike, No matter the grade, high or low. Who made the soldier, of the ghetto is, For revenge his guiding principle, And like a dog that hates more its kin, After a blunder, plays Socrates. Kick the Saint. The devil is better, the saint is worse, The devil is hot, the saint is cold. From the devil, we keep our distance, With the saint, we rub shoulders. Through a natural metamorphosis, The devil evolves from the saint. And when we get burnt is too late, To know the change had taken place. ...

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