THE COMBATS

At Gassama’s final trumpet, at his final trumpet . . . They stood like the crucifixion’s stake, Like the crucifixion’s stake, The Antelopes stood, Cheery visages in glum, Wreathed with wide waters, Of the hearts crackdom accepted. They’ve caressed Leaking from The Eagles In twin-legged sphere leather Combats, they’ve caressed.

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