Kian Sheik


Mine olde friend tyme hath given me a key
It hath spoken of luck. It hath spoken to me
It rattles on of mine furious admiration. It
sings of hope and a week desperation
till waiting is filled I cannot open the lock
when my tyme hath come, I bid deathe may knock

Midlife time has sent me an answer
It speaks of chance. It spins like a dancer

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