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Tick, tick, tick clock and heart
World of dreams, world of art
Escape is words away
What’s altered, horrors spayed?
Scale mountains, seas traverse
In person or just verse?
Naught happens till it does
Wars go on taunting doves
Peaceful state we hold dear
Pudding’s proof tastes quite queer
Conquest wars, foreign shores
Produce styles we adore
Little words that placate
Do not halt reaping hate
No, not I! Call us all
How long till illusions fall?
Short time now ‘fore we land
Barren Earth which we stand
Weeps and groans of ravished
All too clear we are cursed