Petere Medicinam

We are here and now is time,

We left our selves with broken mind.

Twelve bells sound upon the tower.

Thy was nowhere found.

Still they sing of aural power

Gained through countless toiled hours.

Gracefully they sang a blues

So lonesome it brought all to tears.

A screaming soul o wanting out

Was all that I had held to hear.

Freedom rings upon our death

And till that day we give our breath

This is all we’d hope to give.

Through the modest lives we live.

Labored words for labored eyes.

Savored truths, recycled lies.

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