The way I like to go
If I must die
Let me go when the grasses are all dried
When the sun revile the evil & shine not
In a tatched dream,
With honey in my mouth
And a tongue dried of sputum
If anyone dares cry
With revenge I will spite him/her
So let me go when the grasses are dried
When the sun seizes to shine
If not let immortality be my crown
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