Press
Press hard my friend
To see the end
Dont worry if you win
Fate is not your kin
My lasting thought
I swear I aught
To wear and tout
The spring has frought
Penance is paid
Pain is laid
I rouse this maiden of staunch confused cadence.
The stench of death is the only fragrance
But im alive you see
Birthed in this fools venture, but free
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