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war
There’s no more poetry to write as long as the rockets take flight.
Nothing beautiful to sing when the warplanes take wing.
Does the math hurt your head when they’re counting the dead?
Whole bloodlines razed by the bombs. People...
Nothing beautiful to sing when the warplanes take wing.
Does the math hurt your head when they’re counting the dead?
Whole bloodlines razed by the bombs. People...
