An ancient straightness is afoot,
Making thunder where it purrs;
Massively extensive beasts of pride
Lurk in this breezy south, in ways always.
Mute airs come with a woe so passive,
The infinite heart accuses you,
It doesn’t abase your religion,
Nor does it specify the heart of one.
Miniature hearts come screeching,
Noisy heads are alive with a victorious air,
Bumpy roads shall bitterly reward us,
When the time is near and we are near.