You believe in the looting of few,
The voice of love betrays nobody.
If telling and doing is about
Then why do you achieve like a speech?
You are still, and motionless is another,
For both believe in manly affairs.
The stride of a life is the stride of living,
Many dyes of pain, many are in pleasure.
The voices loudly echo when they follow
Other voices, instead whispering is about.
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