The theater of cruelty lives on lies
We fell ourselves--the actors, heroes, win
Our hearts with promises that those who sin
Will get their punishment, be food for flies.
The theater of the absurd denies
The game is serious--there lies the gun,
Still warm, but we believe it's all in fun--
But streets will run with blood to get the prize.
Commedia dell'arte now rules the day--
No, it's a satyr play, the tragic end
Of tragedy a face, a feast of fools.
Why can't we have a Theatre Libre
Instead of agitprop? We must defend
Humanity from psychopaths' old rules.
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