1900
1
Everything offering their action to tape,
Feeling the signs against the wake,
A prompt missile to oppose walking out,
Never had it picked the rage of the south,
Cheap, for instance, the black of the dirt,
In my middle age times she produce its worth,
Now, the blunt burns for the hierarchy of steal,
Hymns of its angels casting the shooters deal,
Fly around the jewelry lactation success,
Keeping the tribunal reputation of best,
Advancing the water around the walls,
Diving in temptation’s hole of Psalms.
