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Post by Equus on May 9, 2014 5:10:10 GMT
Locomotive Breath:
In the shuffling madness Of the locomotive breath, Runs the all, time loser, Headlong to his death.
He feels the piston scraping Steam breaking on his brow Old Charlie stole the handle and The train it won't stop going
No way to slow down. He sees his children jumping off At the stations - one by one. His woman and his best friend
In bed and having fun. He's crawling down the corridor On his hands and knees Old Charlie stole the handle and
The train it won't stop going No way to slow down. He hears the silence howling Catches angels as they fall.
And the all-time winner Has got him by the balls. He picks up Gideons Bible Open at page one
God He stole the handle and The train won't stop going No way to slow down.
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Post by Equus on May 9, 2014 5:13:38 GMT
A Passion Play...
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Post by Equus on May 9, 2014 23:48:46 GMT
Pavane...
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Post by Equus on May 9, 2014 23:51:17 GMT
Pavane live...
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Post by Equus on May 10, 2014 8:34:47 GMT
Yes... this is Ian Anderson...
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Post by maddogfagin on May 10, 2014 14:26:44 GMT
Yes... this is Ian Anderson... The original from Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac And for good measure
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Post by Equus on May 10, 2014 20:55:45 GMT
Hard liner:
Hard liner, she brings ice when I bring fire She's a hard liner, tightrope cross Niagara She'd cut the wire, never feel a thing Walked the sidewalk of another strange avenue Kicked my heels and wished my feet were in some other shoes But I'm not running from that hard liner
Well, she brings ice when I bring fire She's a real hard liner, how does she retain my heart's desire? It's a funny thing, knows what she wants, knows how to get it, too Scares me with cold logic, scares me with the witch's brew But I keep on drinking, hard liner, oh
Hard liner, I'm framed and I'm hanging on the wall She's a hard liner, I'm like some big game trophy hat stand in the hall But I remember warm and loving nights Her red hair, restaurants, swaying bust, headlights, it's a funny thing
Hard liner, yeah, she brings ice when I bring fire Hard liner, tightrope 'cross Niagara, don't cut my wire Hard liner, hard, hard liner, well, she brings sun when I bring rain And she's a real hard liner, yeah, we've got it all crossed up again Hard liner, hard liner, now I don't think we can stay in the same town
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Post by steelmonkey on May 11, 2014 1:59:59 GMT
This song is such a strong piece of Rock Island...how did it get cut off the album ?
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Post by Equus on May 11, 2014 6:39:06 GMT
This song is such a strong piece of Rock Island...how did it get cut off the album ? Yes! Hard liner is a brilliant song! It would have lifted Rock Island a meter or... ...I know... Totally out of context... Here's something for the kid in us all... It's permitted to sing along!
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Post by Equus on May 12, 2014 14:43:55 GMT
She said she was a dancer: She said, she was a dancer If I believed it, it was my business She surely knew a thing or two about control Next to the bar we hit the samovar She almost slipped right through my fingers It was snowing outside and in her soul Well, maybe you're a dancer And maybe I'm the King of Old Siam I thought it through best to let the illusion roll I wouldn't say I've never heard that tale before And my frozen little senorita But if your dream is good Why not share it when the nights are cold? Hey Moscow, what's your story? Lady, take your time, don't hurry Maybe a student of the agricultural plan Hey Moscow, what's your name? If you don't want to say, don't worry It would probably be hard for me to make it scan With her phrase book in the silk soft hand She spoke in riddles while the vodka listened I said, "Let me look up love, if I might be so bold" She was the nearest thing to rock and roll That side of the velvet curtain That separates eastern steel from western gold Hey Miss Moscow, what's your story? You needn't speak aloud, just whisper Am I just the closest thing to an Englishman? You've seen me in your magazines or maybe on state television I'm your Pepsi-Cola but you won't take me out the can She said, she was a dancer, so she did She said, she was a dancer If I believed it, it was my business It felt like a merry dance that I was being led So I stole one kiss, it was a near miss She looked at me like I was Jack, the ripper She leaned in close, "Goodnight", was all she said So I took myself off to bed...
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Post by Equus on May 12, 2014 14:52:06 GMT
Dogs in the Midwinter:You ever had a day like I had today, when things are stacked up bad? You look around and every face you see seems guaranteed to send you mad. And you peer into those hallowed institutions. And they bark at you from every side. But the bite goes wide. I see them running with their tails hanging low like dogs in the midwinter. The prophets and the wise men and the hard politicos are all dogs in the midwinter. Let the breath from the mountain still the pain, clear water from the fountain run sweeter than the rain. Dogs in the midwinter. The boss man and the tax man and the moneylenders growl... like dogs in the midwinter. The weaker of the herd can feel their eyes and hear them howl like dogs in the midwinter. Though the fox and the rabbit are at peace, cold doggies in the manger turn last suppers into feasts. Dogs in the midwinter. You ever had a day like i had today --- dogs in the midwinter. You look around and every face you see --- dogs in the midwinter. And you peer into those hallowed institutions. And they bark at you from every side. But the bite goes wide. We're all running on a tightrope, wearing slippers in the snow... we're all dogs in the midwinter. The ice is ever thinner. Be careful how you go like dogs in the midwinter. And it's hard to find true equilibrium when you're looking at each other down the muzzle of a gun. Dogs in the midwinter... Here's looking at you kid...
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Post by Equus on May 12, 2014 17:11:03 GMT
I just remembered that Nina Hagen actually sing a little bit about Jethro Tull... Well, it's just a line in the song really... she is singing about a cover band that plays a Jethro Tull hit... Whatever that is... but they play really bad... (the cover band, that is...) and their instruments are out of tune... You will probably have to be German, or at least know the language, to love this artist, though she does sing in English once in a while... Maybe she's a fan?
Auf'm rummel:
Wir standen auf'm rummel in treptow tranken auf die schnelle mal 'n kuehles bier eigentlich wollt ich laengst nach hause da sagte einer, ich bin 'n kavalier leute, ich gebe 'n korn aus
und wir tranken das bier und den korn aus fuhren noch mal schnell mit der gespensterbahn eigentlich wollt ich laengst nach hause da sagte einer: die minelli is hier hey lasst uns sehn ob es wahr ist
aber nichts hat gestimmt, denn da stand nur nina hagen, da is nix dabei eigentilich wollt ich laengst nach hause da sagte einer: vorne spielt 'ne band hey lasst und sehn und mal gehn
Geh ick nu oder blieb ick nu irgendwie muss man was tun geh ick nu oder blieb ick nu oder wer weess wat what i can do?
Die band brachte grad nen Jethro Tull hit die spielten so mies, mann, da stimmte kein ton eigentlich wollt ich laengst nach hause da sagte einer: ich gebe bei mir im garten eine fete...
und wir fuhren mit der s-bahn nach dahlem wir sassen dann rum und wir hoerten musik eigentlich wollt ich laengst nach hauses da sangte einer: hier is nix los, eij, hier is absolut nix los!!
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Post by steelmonkey on May 12, 2014 20:07:20 GMT
Not a pretty song...basically she describes a crappy night out in the Treptow neighborhood of Berlin...getting drunk and increasingly bored...one proof of how bad a night is the local band playing a Tull hit that sounds so wretched...the singer can't even carry the tune...and soon she realizes nothing is happening, nothing is going to happen and she's gonna take her bored, pissed-off, sorry ass home by subway.
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Post by Equus on May 12, 2014 22:39:27 GMT
Not a pretty song...basically she describes a crappy night out in the Treptow neighborhood of Berlin...getting drunk and increasingly bored...one proof of how bad a night is the local band playing a Tull hit that sounds so wretched...the singer can't even carry the tune...and soon she realizes nothing is happening, nothing is going to happen and she's gonna take her bored, pissed-off, sorry ass home by subway. A very precise description. She really wants to go home, but just around the corner there's a rainbow in disguise... She decides to follow it... stays just a little longer, and a little longer... A brilliant song... Wonderful Nina Hagen... Explosive and unpredictable... Love the German language... Especially when Nina takes it on... I remember when I bought her first album in 1978... I listened to it again and again... Drove my parents crazy... An absolute classic... I dreamed about marrying her... I was in love...
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Post by steelmonkey on May 13, 2014 0:07:46 GMT
I think she is pretty cool. She was VERY popular in Germany in the 80's and early 90's.
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Post by Equus on May 13, 2014 17:53:53 GMT
I think she is pretty cool. She was VERY popular in Germany in the 80's and early 90's. The album I love the most, is the first... titled Nina Hagen Band. It's simply breathtaking. This wonderful album is in German. Unfortunately the band split up. They made one more album titled Unbehagen... which really means discomfort. In my opinion it's not as good as the first... Too me the first album is reason enough to learn German... That's how good it is... Wonderful language... Unfortunately many people don't like the German language... mainly because of the Second World War, and the Nazis... but the language is never to blame... and most of the Germans I have met in my life, are really wonderful people...
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Post by Equus on May 13, 2014 18:00:57 GMT
The Whistler:
I'll buy you six bay mares to put in your stable Six golden apples, bought with my pay I am the first piper who calls the sweet tune But I must be gone by the seventh day
So come on, I'm the whistler I have a pipe and a drum to play Get ready for the whistler I whistle along on the seventh day Whistle along on the seventh day
All kinds of sadness, I've left behind me Many's the day when I have done wrong But I'll be yours forever and ever Climb in the saddle and whistle along
So come on, I'm the whistler I have a pipe and a drum to play Get ready for the whistler I whistle along on the seventh day Whistle along on the seventh day
Deep red are the sunsets in mystical places Black are the nights on summer day sands We'll find the speck of truth in each riddle Hold the first grain of love in our hands
So come on, I'm the whistler I have a pipe and a drum to play Get ready for the whistler I whistle along on the seventh day
So come on, I'm a whistler I have a pipe and a drum to play Get ready for the whistler I whistle along on the seventh day Whistle along on the seventh day
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Post by Equus on May 15, 2014 5:23:30 GMT
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Post by steelmonkey on May 15, 2014 15:31:26 GMT
With you on german language, culture and people, Eq., one of the things people least understand about me ( besides why I'm a chronic jerk) is how a nice Jewish boy with Camp surivivor parents, ended up adopting Hamburg as a second home...but to me it makes perfect sense,,,I mean, why not go somewhere that you get a boost up just because of your ethnic hand of cards? I was treated like the last Cherokee by the generation after the Nazi's....and I don't think anyone needs to be reminded how genocides have been perpetuated throughout history and currently all over the world...the combination of German efficiancy and Jewish optimism...not believing it could happen till it was too late, made the Nazi genocide extra horrific and scarring....but if we wrote off nations and peoples for historical or current savagery, we would be sitting around all dressed up with NOWHERE to go.
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Post by Equus on May 15, 2014 17:55:07 GMT
With you on german language, culture and people, Eq., one of the things people least understand about me ( besides why I'm a chronic jerk) is how a nice Jewish boy with Camp surivivor parents, ended up adopting Hamburg as a second home...but to me it makes perfect sense,,,I mean, why not go somewhere that you get a boost up just because of your ethnic hand of cards? I was treated like the last Cherokee by the generation after the Nazi's....and I don't think anyone needs to be reminded how genocides have been perpetuated throughout history and currently all over the world...the combination of German efficiancy and Jewish optimism...not believing it could happen till it was too late, made the Nazi genocide extra horrific and scarring....but if we wrote off nations and peoples for historical or current savagery, we would be sitting around all dressed up with NOWHERE to go. It's very tragic indeed... Innocent people on both sides were sucked into the madness of the Nazis... It wasn't just black and white... There were a lot of gray during the war... The free world had to stop Nazi Germany, but as in any war, innocent people suffered, and died, on both sides... Some of those people would have made great friends... but unfortunately, this was not to be... The genocide of the Jews made it clear that human beings are capable of unfathomable atrocities... It's very sad...
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Post by Equus on May 15, 2014 18:09:31 GMT
Minstrel In The Gallery:
The minstrel in the gallery looked down upon the smiling faces. He met the gazes --- observed the spaces between the old men's cackle. He brewed a song of love and hatred --- oblique suggestions --- and he waited. He polarized the pumpkin-eaters --- static-humming panel-beaters --- freshly day-glow'd factory cheaters (salaried and collar-scrubbing). He titillated men-of-action --- belly warming, hands still rubbing on the parts they never mention. He pacified the nappy-suffering, infant-bleating one-line jokers --- T.V. documentary makers (overfed and undertakers). Sunday paper backgammon players --- family-scarred and women-haters. Then he called the band down to the stage and he looked at all the friends he'd made.
The minstrel in the gallery looked down on the rabbit-run. And threw away his looking-glass - saw his face in everyone.
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Post by Equus on May 15, 2014 19:04:51 GMT
Life is a long song:
When you're falling awake and you take stock of the new day, and you hear your voice croak as you choke on what you need to say, well, don't you fret, don't you fear, I will give you good cheer.
Life's a long song. Life's a long song. Life's a long song.
If you wait then your plate I will fill.
As the verses unfold and your soul suffers the long day, and the twelve o'clock gloom spins the room, you struggle on your way. Well, don't you sigh, don't you cry, lick the dust from your eye.
Life's a long song. Life's a long song. Life's a long song.
We will meet in the sweet light of dawn.
As the Baker Street train spills your pain all over your new dress, and the symphony sounds underground put you under duress, well don't you squeal as the heel grinds you under the wheel.
Life's a long song. Life's a long song. Life's a long song.
But the tune ends too soon for us all.
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Deleted
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Post by Deleted on May 16, 2014 13:22:30 GMT
Jethro Tull - "The Clasp" / "Too many too" The Clasp We travelers on the endless wastes in single orbits, gliding cold-eyed march towards the dawn behind hard-weather hoods a-hiding. Meeting as the tall ships do, passing in the channel afraid to chance a gentle touch, afraid to make the clasp. In high-rise city canyons dwells the discontent of ages. On ring roads, nose to bumper crawl commuters in their cages. Cryptic signals flash across from pilots in the fast lane. Double-locked and belted in too late to make the clasp. Let's break the journey now on some lonely road. Sit down as strangers will, let the stress unload. Talk in confidential terms, share a dark unspoken fear. Refill the cup and drink it up. Say goodnight and wish good luck. Synthetic chiefs with frozen smiles holding unsteady courses. Grip the reins of history, high on their battle horses. And meeting as good statesmen do before the T.V.-eyes of millions, hand to hand exchange the lie pretend to make the clasp. Too Many Too Too many drivers in too many cars. Too many lost souls drinking in too many bars. Too many heroes stepping on too many toes. Too many yes-men nodding when they really mean no. Too many lives each cat can lose, we've got too many too. Too many too. Too much sunshine. Too many drops of rain. Too many equal and average children who will all grow up the same. Too many fireside politicians holding too many views. Too many questions but there are answers too few. Too many lives each cat can lose, we've got too many too. If I were a liar yes, and you were a cheat, there would be too many places where we all could meet. Too many temples where we could worship the beast. Where he who thinks he had the most in fact has the least. Too many lives each cat can lose, I've got too many too. I've got too many too. I've got too many too. I've got too many too. www.cupofwonder.com/index2.html
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Post by Equus on May 17, 2014 9:16:16 GMT
Okay... Here is another version... I wasn't happy about the other one... I have removed some of the words, because I think that they were inappropriate...
After These Wars:
My life is dull, I'm Bored and sadly Social networks, trolling gladly... All alone in this apartment... Internet, disguised and savage ... Moving slowly, get the picture... Post it on Facebook and Twitter... Claiming to be someone else... Claiming to be rich and well...
Accusations all invented... followers and "friends" are tended spew the venom, daily doses... Strangling freedom, up goes our noses... I have no consciences, have no manners... Freedom smashing, waving banners... We are right, and you are wrong!! Global networks turns me on...
After these wars I'm longing for another After these wars Let's move on to another On the internet, I'm free again... To bring you down, don't make amends... I lie, and lie, and lie again... After these wars...
Mothers in the kitchen staring, at the wall, dinner preparing... Almost done, and almost dying... Lost my appetite for trying... Sad and wretched, fingers smearing shabby clothes, nobody hears me... Set a cigarette on fire... Coughing, couldn't get much higher...
After these wars I'm longing for another After these wars Let's move on to another On the internet, I'm free again... To bring you down, don't make amends... I lie, and lie, and lie again... After these wars...
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Post by Deleted on May 17, 2014 13:40:38 GMT
Okay... Here is another version... I wasn't happy about the other one... I have removed some of the words, because I think that they were inappropriate... After These Wars:
My life is dull, I'm Bored and sadly Social networks, trolling gladly... All alone in this apartment... Internet, disguised and savage ... Moving slowly, get the picture... Post it on Facebook and Twitter... Claiming to be someone else... Claiming to be rich and well... Accusations all invented... followers and "friends" are tended spew the venom, daily doses... Strangling freedom, up goes our noses... I have no consciences, have no manners... Freedom smashing, waving banners... We are right, and you are wrong!! Global networks turns me on... After these wars I'm longing for another After these wars Let's move on to another On the internet, I'm free again... To bring you down, don't make amends... I lie, and lie, and lie again... After these wars... Mothers in the kitchen staring, at the wall, dinner preparing... Almost done, and almost dying... Lost my appetite for trying... Sad and wretched, fingers smearing shabby clothes, nobody hears me... Set a cigarette on fire... Coughing, couldn't get much higher... After these wars I'm longing for another After these wars Let's move on to another On the internet, I'm free again... To bring you down, don't make amends... I lie, and lie, and lie again... After these wars... Let it all out, tell us how you really feel. 'cos we're all kinds of animals coming here: occasional demons too. ... We're gonna leave your stereo, but we'll have your soul for tea.Occasional Demons Well, you got a big-jib crane waiting to pick you up. Mmmm, you see those snakes that crawl, they're just dying to trip you up. Live out in sad shacks at the back of town. Hold your breath while we do you down 'cos we're all kinds of animals coming here: occasional demons too. We're all kinds of animals coming here: occasional demons too. Well, you got a nice apartment here with appliances and CD. We're gonna leave your stereo, but we'll have your soul for tea.I'm not speaking of material things. Gonna chew you up, gonna suck you in, 'cos we're all kinds of animals coming here: occasional demons too. We're all kinds of animals coming here: occasional demons too. Smokestacks, belching black, we're the have-nots in your shade. How about a slice of life, how about some human trade? Eat at the best table in town. No headwaiter going to turn us down, 'cos we're all kinds of animals coming here: occasional demons too. All kinds of animals coming here: occasional demons too, occasional demons too. We're all kinds of animals coming here: occasional demons too, occasional demons too.
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Post by Equus on May 17, 2014 14:33:49 GMT
Okay... I had that coming... TooTull.... Could the tea be changed into a cup of coffee?
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Post by Equus on May 17, 2014 15:03:46 GMT
Cat's Squirrel:
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Post by Equus on May 18, 2014 15:36:09 GMT
Bungle In The Jungle:
Walking through forests of palm tree apartments --- scoff at the monkeys who live in their dark tents down by the waterhole --- drunk every Friday --- eating their nuts --- saving their raisins for Sunday. Lions and tigers who wait in the shadows --- they're fast but they're lazy, and sleep in green meadows.
Let's bungle in the jungle --- well, that's all right by me. I'm a tiger when I want love, but I'm a snake if we disagree.
Just say a word and the boys will be right there: with claws at your back to send a chill through the night air. Is it so frightening to have me at your shoulder? Thunder and lightning couldn't be bolder. I'll write on your tombstone, ``I thank you for dinner.'' This game that we animals play is a winner.
Let's bungle in the jungle --- well, that's all right by me. I'm a tiger when I want love, but I'm a snake if we disagree.
The rivers are full of crocodile nasties and He who made kittens put snakes in the grass. He's a lover of life but a player of pawns --- yes, the King on His sunset lies waiting for dawn to light up His Jungle as play is resumed. The monkeys seem willing to strike up the tune.
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Post by Equus on May 19, 2014 17:33:33 GMT
Big Riff And Mando:
Marty loved the sound of the stolen mandolin. Somebody took it on a dare in the night-time. Run up to the radio, calling out to the wind. Now, bring it, bring it back at least an hour before flight time. It was a souvenir, but it was a right arm missing. Swap a woodwork rhythm for a humbucking top line.
Big Riff, rough boy, wants to be a singer in a band. A little slow in the brain box, but he had a quick right hand. Run left, run right --- everywhere he look --- nobody watching, no, but that was all he took last night.
Running on the power of a stolen mandolin. Steal a little inspiration. Steal a little muscle. Will he wake in the morning, wondering --- was it really worth it? So make a little deal, Yeah, make a little hustle.
Ringing on the radio --- got a proposition for those English boys. I'll make the sing-song --- you can make the background noise. One, two, three, four --- one bar and in. Give you back the mando, if you'll let this singer sing tonight.
Marty loved the sound of the stolen mandolin. Big Riff took it on a dare in the night-time. Now it's four o'clock, and we're waiting at the sound-check. Looking for a face staring in from the sunshine. We got two strong lawmen from the sheriff's office. They're going to lift Big Riff before he plays the first line.
Big Riff, rough boy, wants to be a singer in a band. Yeah, help him on the stage now, put that microphone in his hand. Think hard, think right --- nothing in his mind --- So Riff did a runner, but he left the mandolin behind.
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Post by Equus on May 23, 2014 14:41:15 GMT
Meliora Sequamur: (Let Us Follow Better Things)
Mortarboard, gown, hood and lace come guide me in learning, in ascension where minds may meet and twitters tweet in modern Latin, in declension. O Domine, O Magister - we aspiring angels sing with one tongue, forever young, let us follow better things.
In saintly word and perfect grammar, to Academia's lofty space. The trivium, quadrivium, all baser thoughts now to efface. O Domine, O Magister - we aspiring angels sing with one tongue, forever young, let us follow better things.
Cruel Bunter-bashing, cane-a-thrashing, lines, detention, soon forgot. O dark ploy! This grammar school boy has paid the price and bought the lot. In the quiet hours of life's twilight, old school ties and photographs, I call to mind the sore behind, the tears, the last and longest laughs.
Empty desks and inkwells, darkened chapels, cobweb corridors silent now. Ghostly purple robes and dusty trencher, what could be holier than thou? O Domine, O Magister - we aspiring angels sing with one tongue, forever young, let us follow better things. Meliora sequamur: may we follow better things.
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