Do you think they know our secrets, as
we gather in this room, this forum of contrived memory
as all bonhomie, all networks bloom? Do you think
they know the truth of us, this alumni born of hell?
And should the artifice suffice, is there reason now to tell?
Youth was an excuse as I recall the days, when we gathered
for our rituals and all the people played
Wealth and riches followed in the wake
of what may be a great mistake
but gathering here we yet partake,
in honours, awards and praise
I’ll remember what we did as you will surely join with me,
but we’ll toast the others here around and will not let them see
The devil’s alumni gathered like three witches round their pot,
remembering the price we paid and all the victims got
And we can fool ourselves it’s just a dream and so it matters not,
but I’ll remember what we did and why this is our lot
I’ll remember everything and you will join with me,
and we’ll know we’re the alumni so we never can be free.
© Helen Valentina 2013 All Rights Reserved