climbing, catapulting tremors
shaken dandruff, daily bread
sung down the road in tenor
cry'n out to rest your weeping head

tho' no echo return'd onto your spake
rolls of fog, kings and carrion, alike
no glass to shatter-- no roars to shake
no lonesome heads to rest your pike

loose panic-stricken thoughts therein
'does my crusade here come to rest?
have I deceived myself insane? 
has...

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