Fête

reallyshe

The tent of mystery the palace and temple of the divine is
This human body sauntering idly by in search of a cigarette
Who looks on grimly at this comedy with a weary air
Having exhausted all the pleasures of the fete

A savage dowered with a powerful brain
I like you none the worse for it
Bound to your chariot wheels if
Only to bask in your society laugh

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