"O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!"
The Hermit cross'd his brow.
"Say quick," quoth he, "I bid thee say—
What manner of man art thou?"

Forthwith this frame of mine was wrench'd
With a woful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale;
And then it left me free.

Thursday, September 09, 2004

now i'm almost over you...
i've almost shook these blues...
so when you come back around...
after painting the town...
you'll see i'm almost over you...

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