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Cough Up Syrup

The cloven foot has a name.
But all its life is drenched with pain.
The sigmented sorrow deabound.
Is left for aces with the clown.

Cough up syrup, and drink the wine.
Spill your seed on the rine.

All is not fine.
All is not lost.
All is not left for the boss.

All is not graves.
All is not dead.
All is not sleep to the bed.

The hatty lady left the cloak.
I leave my scent with a soak.
Now my name is left in her throat.
And last will come the easy stroke.

Cough up syrup, and drink the wine.
Spill your seed on the rine.

All is not fine.
All is not lost.
All is not left for the lost.

All is not graves.
All is not dead.
All is not voices pound in your bed.

Cough up syrup, and drink the wine.
Spill your seed all the time.
Written by MrE (C. R. Powers)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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