As I Sit In My Study, But A Thought
Shall Reach Mine Head,
What Shall Our Cursed Race Be Like
When I Am Dead?
Our Orb Is Famelicose For Power,
Earth's Child Is Not Us Yet Rather A
Flower
We Cling To An Urge To
Quomodcunquize,
Thou Are A Storm Upon The Rise,
Whom Amongst Thou Is Not A Slave
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