Guesses are correct according to the saints,
Answers are solved this way, from complaints.
Why do saints question and interrogate us?
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Tonight the tall grasses sway atop the scenery,
To this speak of width of your lenses, the bitter eye.
I gather before me my sight that was extinguished
All because of my awkward light, and dusk was begotten.
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Minute fractures come this way,
The bones of course mattered
But then the elements defeated
And established material was upset.
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Satisfy us, the sauce is laid on the plate,
To sound like a train we munch on the crockery.
All of us are tame, men sweat due to food and water,
This ranch of dining musically swings with munching.
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I keep the anorak of rainy seasons
When I am sad with ants in circles.
To antagonize my sad feelings
Worsens the interrogative remarks.
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Comments are frying, as people cook
And they stir, burn and dash like fire.
Nature comments on the present
As food commands our life, for we are leaves.
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The government commands us to obey,
If living inside a soul continues, we obey.
My governing is gorgeous, I obey myself,
The incoming missiles are defeated.
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A bomb is a boat of many colours and feelings,
A blushing face has arisen, many people are hyperactive;
The impenetrable stain lingers, implementing change,
Loathing it for the atmosphere and all its tameness.
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To go slowly to the fountain you must crawl
On all fours, for the region is aghast with noise.
A talking man ascends and decides to ascertain
Your movement, forgiving you for your sins in the past.
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