As if wine was forever our truth!
We had holidays under some sun
And nights undone with ripeless future
Season, season bereft of reason
This distance stays me to lands I know,
Lads I know, sons I only think on
Where have we gone upon our travels
To pretend to seek something purer
Of white mind and just education
There must be within what is without
I tally, I sow, I try to know
Yet sussed, I bow again to shallows
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