Chilly
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A chilly wind blows tonight with stiff lips,
whistling a dirge down the dark, empty glen
Clouds hover in an apple-crisp night sky
Thin, streaming clouds, stingy clouds
Fallen leaves and autumn trees
A chilly November dawn
When dreams won't take flight and wintry whispers wake
A man sits alone
Echo, you privilege soul
Stand by as I pillage your home
Watch as they rave your condemnation
We have yet to live.
