Whoooo are you?


Underground is the sport that gives,
the game the name of reporting shives,

Above the trance of forlorn eyes,

Is the foam that must choice in disguise,

Thank you in all,

and thank you in essence,

Be the Rose that releases temptations,

To sing and dance on the blood of rounds,

Smile and type the shake of mornings profound,

We join in 3s and leave by 4s,

We open the perception,

In the following ship of doors,

Yonder I call in bones that fall,

From the rotund conjunction,

From the human walking tall.

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