Someone’s earring on the road,maybe old or plated gold,still the apple of the eyesof ravens watching from the sky. Like the words of someone’s song,that I quote from time to time,something of a raven’s penchantfor the shiny shells and chimes. Not a moment to admire,as the haste is catching up,work the bones and every muscle,like the man behind the bustle. Lone Wolf1990 04:37, May 9, 2012 (UTC) PostForums: Index > User Poetry > Blackbird's Apple
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| - Someone’s earring on the road,maybe old or plated gold,still the apple of the eyesof ravens watching from the sky. Like the words of someone’s song,that I quote from time to time,something of a raven’s penchantfor the shiny shells and chimes. Not a moment to admire,as the haste is catching up,work the bones and every muscle,like the man behind the bustle. Lone Wolf1990 04:37, May 9, 2012 (UTC) PostForums: Index > User Poetry > Blackbird's Apple
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| - Someone’s earring on the road,maybe old or plated gold,still the apple of the eyesof ravens watching from the sky. Like the words of someone’s song,that I quote from time to time,something of a raven’s penchantfor the shiny shells and chimes. Not a moment to admire,as the haste is catching up,work the bones and every muscle,like the man behind the bustle. Lone Wolf1990 04:37, May 9, 2012 (UTC) PostForums: Index > User Poetry > Blackbird's Apple
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