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#scaffold
_We burrow where they lie, our fallen brothers. Old sweats and fledgling crow bags, both. In death as in life, they have our back…and so we plough on into the abyss by the light of a caged phosphorus flare, hot metal spraying the midnight hour like some vengeful fay’s buckshot. A human scaffold supports us for the distance of four miles. That’s Piccadilly to Hampstead; Circus to Heath. The length of a lifetime…of  hundreds of lifetimes. In the winter when the rains come and the trenches run like a quartermaster’s latrine, the soil sloughs away to reveal the ossuary within. It is then that I, in my now customary delirium, imagine that I can reach out to shake their hand again._
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Nov 11, 2020
Nov 11, 2020 at 3:11 PM UTC
They Shall Not Grow Old | 11/11
They hurt their Love, and she forgave them, All their fears and their whim. And threw herself as onto a scaffold To save them both, and not her or him. They didn't take care of Love, but could be More merciful, tender and kind to her. She gave them happiness and so much charity Up to the last day, while they were with her. They killed their Love so bitter and wildly! They ribbed their Love. They burnt her all, With all their wishes, dreams and chances, With their faith in Love in whole! They forgot their Love. They simply buried Their tender Love. And she went away, Without 'Goodbye', remained as a shadow, Irretrievable, lost, forever, noway...
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Apr 10, 2025
Apr 10, 2025 at 5:41 PM UTC
Love ballad