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Build a fire And stoke it with gasoline And TNT And the wicked poor flesh And watch the careen Into the baddest crash You have ever seen Watch while I smile Because I love to love this Life’s hot kiss And its empty remembrance Of what was not pain “Who’s going to carry the platter that holds the head of John? The hammered silver shimmered; the snakes on its face were brilliant in a brilliant design crawling from under the head that was guilty of thе crime. And the scribes and thе scabs came and the old women and all the hags came to view in death, as in life John-of-Dreams quiet and nodding. And they made a smooth furrow a hollow hole his resting place. And they dumped his damp shroud after him and his old ruddy and robust had become pale and thin. The shriek in the thickets reduced to a whisper that echoed finally silent. The end was truly at hand as he said and above the crime and the penance was an inscription that read ‘Pass the strictest sentence’” So light it up in black and blue And Christmas green And invite me in And shoot me down And curse this love like kindness Because the smoke is always thick In the love of God and blindness Thick enough to make you sick And sick enough to make you stop
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