Thou criest out in a fi' o' spleen for me
Our clear mystifying phenomena
Screech at thee whilst the fault lay not with thee
O'ercome hurdles; What does it matter
Get thy heroes slew though I've yit killed mine
For caring for thy pompous self I fled
Well/unfounded Fear has decided my fate
It fled; sun's shone, blue moons' hidden ‘n' still hide
I'm utterly flaked, half's living, half's dead
No matter, for good, I still feel the same
(written on 4th, august) - Leandro Meneghin
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