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The clouds race golden
As be chariots
The sun is born
Like the deviants

As gusts of wind
****** the thoughts
Underdressed
The chest it coughs

While Major Clank
On wheels and stub
Bellows out and
Rubs the nub

Then by runes
the best made plans
Test the dikes
And angst of dams

The age of truth
The youth desired
Across the space
without the wires

The universe comes
In a box
Neatly packed
Shelved , detoxed

And all because
Annointed by rain
The blue sky morning
Clouds it's pain
Notes (optional)

— The End —