C'est la guerre?
They plucked the feathers
Of the white dove,
Smothered them in tar,
Took pliers to its nails,
Scissors to its tongue;
Then cried when creation
Eerily laughed back...
They plucked the feathers
Of the white dove,
Smothered them in tar,
Took pliers to its nails,
Scissors to its tongue;
Then cried when creation
Eerily laughed back...
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