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  • Come along you bleeding saps!
    Let us see whose heart is most swollen,
    whose lungs are collapsed,
    whose legs have been used as kindling on a journey long forgotten.

    Come along you artist! You brave coward!
    Let us uncover which of your wounds
    aches, whose doubts and prayers
    have the nose of a precious fermenting fruit.

    Come along you, you who have no shame!
    You Tuff Son Of A Bitch
    who have no choice but to show us all your name.

    Come along! Come along!
    You who are able to, not taste, but convey
    with the sweetest tongue, say
    again that no matter what else, there is hope at the end of a song.
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