Silky Crone I serve her bidding,
Drink, drink charming bidder
Hewing, sewing, knitting
She knew the common betrayer.
The secret islanders
Blinking reaching pouring back
The rotten conquerer.
Her mouth is dry
Rasping sore with old names
Given.
The messenger: the favor of upbraiding
Crouching among the overclouded mornings.
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