Buckled the swash just to wash his face,
And taste the ever present scent of grace.
The times of grime slipped from view,
And the grip of the ship has grown in virtue.
Into the murky mire, those beasts untold.
Do retire fast,to feast on the old.
I've just surfaced with a polished gleam,
To grant all the wishes of the play doe machine.
Comments
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such a lush way of using words
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Thanks
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