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A skeletal harvest
above my head.
And the swans' necks snapped in unison.
Through each of the valleys and ever anon.
I am chased by the waifs and the hooligans.
I hide in the caves, but hither they come,
they steal and they sneak through the heath;
and as I lie broken, bent and alone .
I have come to this wretched belief:
That over the aeons - through centuries passed -
there are bones of all those that were lost;
for they, too, were buried and left for the wolves
in caves, that from life, they were tossed.
over my ears,
and the bullets leave holes through my head.
Please, somebody come, and gather the bones,
of me and all those that are dead.
I don`t know what this is. I just had a dream...
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