What A Joyous
For a day to assume it is night
Is such as mistaken a bird hath no flight
When a time was one that we understood
Were it for our worse,? Nay for the good?
Torment, triumph, and defeat now unknown
How harsh must we've been on enemies, was it shown?
Thinking of fears yet energizing in more for none to see
Though uncertain of alignment for us the world will be
Tare the rope that keeps 'I' in a state of one, "confine"
Forth hence To unregrettably see shamefully blind
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