The flying of the year
the frying of the day
now frees our fetid fear
as all time flows away.
We do not mind the toil.
We do not mind the speed.
But our hearts recoil
to boil as we bleed!
The flying of the year
the frying of the day
now frees our fetid fear
as all time flows away.
We do not mind the toil.
We do not mind the speed.
But our hearts recoil
to boil as we bleed!
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