But a linear crate,
You create your plate in days.
The seventh you lay,
For labor came to take its wage.
A circle, a grave we say—
Ohh, we are safe!
She lays in weight,
To maim and tame it seems.
Heavy to souls lost in hate,
Sorry, I meant to say in state.
Yes, the state of your mind in phases.
The clocks of ages,
Who...
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