The chants of that old beggar
As if reciting from some older epic, long lost
My classes take me away from him
Away, far away from this unclean station
There I go, to my lecture platform
I Wait for the day when I can sound like him
Upright from my lecture-platform of
Enchantment.
I wait for that radical day of leakage
When the blank haunt will no more
Give the shivers.
That will be my best lecture
The rest handpicked by the worst
In the melting crust inside his nose...
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