'friendship' In Haste, Lit Op 6

1 My fellow, my friends, We are gathered in ends To our formerly path Of individuality And each one share now A lane of their road. 2 Oh, the array Of trails we display I view them all, As gold threads sewed In the clothing of Awe 3 For I am aware, Hence we shall beware, That even majestic architectures, Do hold the prone to be clawed And be designed by those resting black crows. 4 Every walk we tread We are getting not far To be gathered again Then bid bitter farewells Going farther towards, 5 The love that linked Our paths from the past This do not deserve to be compared For ours are the best in its kind! -oOo-