In days of gray, my legs will lumber,
As time moves swiftly on, it does not break,
In my sleep, dreams will drive me wide awake
And the nightmares keep me deep in slumber.
Provoked by the simplest things, a clumber,
But saddened by the man who forsake
It’s gentle heart, of broken love, it aches,
When the raging fire inside doth...
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