Anarchy.

Laces tied with accuracy to our blocky combat boots.
The misty air is tainted with our soldiers woots.

Gut-busting laughter deep and reverberating,
Going to break through what's barricaded.

Slaps on the back and low growls from throats.
As the aligators roam through the moats.

Law-breaking low-blows both here and there;
Doing anything without a care.

The crowd is silenced, oddly enough.
There are the prisoners, bound in cuffs.

All begin to raise blood-painted fists,
With a round of battle-cries long missed.

Together fight just to break the law,
The most unholy thing they had ever saw.

Now see that the moon has switched to it's full;
The enemies know we can't play by the rules.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

ANARCHY!

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