The ants were here before us,
So they make themselves at home,
After all, it’s a thirty year old house,
I’ve seen ant trails scale walls,
Cross floors,
In my bed,
And now I find them, this morning,
In my bread box,
As if nothing is sacred to these creatures,
Well, after thirty years of building and
Colonising undeterred, it’s hard to keep your
Spiritually I guess,
I’m afraid to go to the basement,
It’s packed to the brim and sitting somewhere
In the dark, I can only assume is Andalusia’s
Biggest ant hive, quite an accolade,
But tommorow I become God,
Tomorrow, I become king of the hill,
Tomorrow I become
Bleach and blowtorch,
Tomorrow I take

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