Shapes of things before my eyes,
Just teach me to despise.
Will time make men more wise?
Here within my lonely frame,
My eyes just hurt my brain.
But will it seem the same?
Come tomorrow, will I be older?
Come tomorrow, may be a soldier.
within
thoughts
desert
frame
teach
disgrace
lonely
before
green
bolder
brain
sands
tomorrow
shapes
destroy
still
despise
hands
things
lands
older
trees
passing
these
almost
please
today
soldier
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