The Fun in Dying Young

That’s the fun of dying young

You leave behind

The frothy air

And climb ahead when

All is not seen

And then you can

Be a long time in the hood

Without being in the mood

For the dangers of time.

There will be

A when when it shall be a fenter

To be a wenter

And not a feel

For you shall

Come to my



Copyright B E Saunders 2016

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