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Wake to see Your true emancipation is a fantasy. Policies have risen up and overcome the brave. Greatness dies, unsung, and lost, invisible to history.
'What's wrong with you, gurny gob?' The fair young thing inquired Sitting there beside me, Beautiful, simply attired.
I was blue and lonely, couldn't sleep a wink. And I could only get unconscious if I'd had too much to drink. I needed inspiration, someone to call a muse.