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Apr 2014
Growing flames will turn your name into a cloud of ashes.
A flowing mane remains untamed through whirling dervish clashes.
Beating hearts as hope departs through valleys long and winding,
Burning sun, you turn and run, the path ahead is blinding.
You always knew I wouldn't do, so why'd you even bother?
Pass my time by penning rhymes and double ******* lagers.
At least part of your name will remain immortal.
Andrew Switzer
Written by
Andrew Switzer  New York
(New York)   
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