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a winding path... this life, it be.... one gathers shells beside the sea.... walks meadows, fair.... sleeps on the lea... lays head in lap of fantasy....
awakened.... by a buzzin' fly.... on picnic cloth the ham's gone wry....
pebbles, stones confuse the road.... the trail's obscured... fine mist's abode... inhabited by undertoad.... is welcoming...it calls, 'you've strode on discs of fire... on fraught desire... on banished trust... play on.... but first..... .you must behold... ....with love...
.............retune ...................your lyre'
*so....a little more pilfering...with no remorses..... worthy sources....! !
delilah contrapunctal.... yes, that's how I intended to spell it.........
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