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lyric poetry

wheel me down by the meadow
skies they were ashen and sober
let us express our baser passions
do not turn your head
there is a city, builded by no hand
in their ragged regimentals
those black eyes i once so praised
dear wife
beside a stricken field
he's gone
a pen of steel
you say you love me
little park that i pass through

 



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