A charge of Dalliance
The old cold wind howls,
you will never make your destination,
the path you seek is gone.
The young man,
all of twenty two,
toeless shoes from miles of solitude,
Recants and shelves his ambition
father I have given all and yet so small
Cynical secular wisdom laughs
at the slow-herd.
your a fool to waste precious time.
in the land of dimes
A charge of dalliance they declare
from their vain high places
with grotesque dour faces
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