Across road ,walk our fellow men.
They dream of their trees by sea
Tossing their elbows about in air,
To breath sun worshiping mode,
Scared of the virus in lung’s fiber
The thing that sticks in its spikes.
Across road ,walk our fellow men.
They dream of their trees by sea
Tossing their elbows about in air,
To breath sun worshiping mode,
Scared of the virus in lung’s fiber
The thing that sticks in its spikes.
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