The slogan on the side said 'built for the trade'But the driver's expression said we'd all been made
A reputation concocted over moons and miles,
The work of 'outside agents'
Flashing fake smiles.
What can we know of anything at all
When we're bombarded by messages
Like scrawl on a wall.
Always back pedalling to relieve the threat of a curse,
The everyday portrayal of myths in reverse.
Maybe words should have more to say
And not just promote games to create the play.
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