Oh, some of me a damn thing I swore to upend. Near here somewhere, some of your old bale spears stuck with grimace within the earth. Oh, let our hands rejoice to be plowing again. Picked our loose ends up and whipped them on that same day. I swore to fight this exactly upon myself, and still in paralysis sleeping with the dogs, I am smiling when tossed aside again. Too cheap? Too steep? I can take it. I might just try to say something in the meantime.










