epic poetry

for then without
it tells of good old times
were it not for that singular smell
when i go back to earth
you are beautiful and faded
there was a strangeness on your lips
the old west, the old time
there is a country full of wine
afraid no more, i say
pharaoh, king of egypt's land
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
there is no flock, however watched and tended