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The Shadow EarlThe Shadow Earl
My lights do not brighten, they shine.
My movements do not disappoint, they guide.
My Stars do not fail, they succeed.
My tools do not break, they strengthen.
My stories do not end, they explode.
My hands do not fly, they glide.
My shadows do not walk, they march.
The sun rises and that is the end of the day.
The ChildThe Child
I just want to rock,
To scream to my hearts content.
That's the way I walk,
That's the way I represent.
I just want to roll,
To feel the pulsing bass.
That's the way I stroll,
That's my eternal grace.
We just want a revolution.
For them to hear what we tell.
To show the institution.
That we as a generation rebel.
Yes "we" you see,
It is not just I.
For we all agree,
You need an honest reply.
Something is wrong,
That is why we sing our song.
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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