A rise from early morning
Nook thou roasted body, hook
in the a combustible
Chamber ready to wake and fight
the last thirst
When sweat is gone the sweeter
of what will be is done,
As Worthless thing comes; for
an idle mind is gone,
Forever losing the sting of death,
dump in the pinnacle
Of eternal cloth
wake up dear little child,
fade the nocturnal hibernation
and take the yoke the delight
to live, where the
road of success, post no mercy
to work, be in the
vague of vacuum, as the lien
learn to stand by its
own two feet
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