SIXTY EIGHT

The world was young and it was ours
We had the shine, we got the hour
Love was out to get us; it's what it seemed.
The crystal ball crushed, to hell we were beamed.
A thick fog and too much hubris on the track,
We came from heavens but lost our way back.
He is a sad storyteller He who has no listener.

 

 

 
 
 


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