Plastered World

Life stay only for every single word, Are you?thou-not every ward, It has past what you have in your sword, Either " thy sunshine,or-neither nor the grace of odd! I once a solder with the life of living Tod, Every street'blood walked like the black white gravel head, Ability, straighten the coming of hidden Fred; Crying of abolished time and desert trod, Wounded above a decade, In my veins rolling like a air spade, art' thou thy evening Slade! Colorless of watering lad, Upon! It stood thousand space against the solder's aid. Life has no aid, No help from the world, It has a plastered wound, Above a decade, Before thee come to thy fluid.