You wont believe it, druggies on every corner, I was propositioned by a young woman, beautiful, she is injecting herself, you probably know her from school, the towns people are afraid, it’s madness over there, even the cops are afraid to go near the place. Solomon looked at the expression on the face, the one doing the talking, he was the listener. Foils on every alley, needles too, he listened to the voice, it was the run up to the election, and the speakers party was the strong arm of hope, Solomon listened on. How the masters of misery try to create the worst thoughts, frightening the sheep, a tried and trusted method of getting your attention, so listen..
You have to listen in the context of the times, same way politicians and poll shakers do a test before they announce the real news, they gauge your reaction. Everyone from Islam is dangerous, every Mexican is a rapist, every Irish man is a drunk, every white man a saint. The boy cried wolf sighed Solomon, when the danger is real no one will believe him. It was a mute point, there were many signs in the Sky, results, polls, national intrigues, unstable leaders, trumpet calls, as Ezra said in the book he wrote 2,7000 years before, before the coming of the new world. Solomon hoped those who were trying to divide opinion had been reading the signs, it applied to them as well, the village meltdown.
