'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-
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