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■ The oak
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I pray
That I should see the dusk of ending’s day Fall, As burning shadows come consume my soul. Lies! The paragons of light and truth Disguise Demons of elusive ties and wicked sooth. They’ve won, And so their evil can be seated ‘pon Its throne, So why do you the coming of my death postpone? Bring it quick! I do not want to taste the birth of your tomorrow, It makes me sick To see this world of pointless pain and endless sorrow.
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