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Red Head Fred

Ya
the real
crime, the
youth of my
time
faded in dull
wines blind
to beauty
following no
rule
of thumb
and walking with
a
loaded gun
Shoot! the masses
Kill! the prophet
Give rebirth to the coming end
Share your lovers and spare no friends
Walk into the grove, the last
Home before you know
The cold earth bare
As you wither and waste away
Like your burning hair

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