The sea is thirsty
The land is hungry
The rain feels dry
The pots are not filled
To them that sit by the broth
The market gets noisier
It does not seem a threat
The cursing tongue gets louder
Maybe its loudest shall be noticed
An end shall soon come
To this wholesome disease.
-G.S. 'Nuel
The land is hungry
The rain feels dry
The pots are not filled
To them that sit by the broth
The market gets noisier
It does not seem a threat
The cursing tongue gets louder
Maybe its loudest shall be noticed
An end shall soon come
To this wholesome disease.
-G.S. 'Nuel
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