This message hastens lest we both go down Scattered, with no character, to death; Death is untutored, with an ignorant frown For precious identities of breath. But you perhaps will say confusion stood, A vulture, near the heart of all our kin: I`ve heard the echoes in a dark tangled wood Yet never saw I a face peering within. These evils being anonymities, We fulminate, in exile from the earth, Aged exclusions of blood memories- Those superstitions of explosive birth; Until there`ll be of us not anything But foolish death, who is confusion`s king.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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