WEBVTT

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Scorpyn ode.

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She disarmed me with a promise.

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So delinquent, so
opposed to the milk

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mead underpinning, pining,
so lost to the vessel of time

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within the scorpionic river.

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No latitude did she grant to
child or tied at the edge of,

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at the banks of
nullifying silence.

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She spoke for 400 million
years, as if there never

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had been a Carboniferous,
as if I could reply

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beyond my conifer sided hand.

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