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Upon the breast of woven time,
A chain of dusk, of verdant grime,
There hung a wheel of elder days,
Forged in fire and time-worn ways.
Its iron teeth, with blue beset,
Did whisper truths men oft forget
Upon the breast of woven time,
A chain of dusk, of verdant grime,
There hung a wheel of elder days,
Forged in fire and time-worn ways.
Its iron teeth, with blue beset,
Did whisper truths men oft forget