Somewhere among naked clouds
Have we, but waning songs to sing
How could we stand these lingering frowns?
Such that scorn our faces still
Celestial heritage blooming loud
With a brighter posterity staring
Yea, she was her fragile crown
In a million skulls, her name only resounding
I wish I could stop her apple beaming brown
And her wrench hurriedly limping
But now are we besieged by an army of crispy clowns
With yesterday maternal lusts plundering
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