Life is cruel to the guileless
And the hungry
To feast upon a sight for sore eyes
To bathe in salts and cuts and gentle coppers
To whisper the names of false men to the dead of knight
To dream that one day everything and one will be
To be the fallen tree in the forest
I'm so confused and in so much pain but it spews out poems that you eat up and
I gobble your attention and praise and insults and passing glasses
And I am very tired and still sparring with those horrid British tongues
But somehow still have time to break
And the hungry
To feast upon a sight for sore eyes
To bathe in salts and cuts and gentle coppers
To whisper the names of false men to the dead of knight
To dream that one day everything and one will be
To be the fallen tree in the forest
I'm so confused and in so much pain but it spews out poems that you eat up and
I gobble your attention and praise and insults and passing glasses
And I am very tired and still sparring with those horrid British tongues
But somehow still have time to break
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